^ 


'jo^yv. 


Uyay/e/(:^i^-^cPt 


J  ■ 


JJJ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fifthprogressiveOOosearich 


Cj'U^,  f^' 


\  f 


lA 


THE  ILLUSTRATED  PROGRESSIVE  SERIES. 


THE 


FIFTH  PROGRESSIVE  READER. 


UABlSFULIiT 


AUBANGED  FOR  THE  USE  OF  SCHOOLS 


NEW  YORiv  . 

P     O'SHEA,    PUBLISHEB 
37  BARCLAY  STREET. 


t:^/^?a:, 


4* 


EDUCATION  DEPTi- 


according  to  Ao^.  of  Congress,  In  the  year  187!?. 
Bt   p.    O'SHEA, 
Ld  the  Office  of  the  Librar-ian  of  Oongioss,  at  WaHhintrtozL 


47/  '^       1'^ 


Kjjl^J^ 


PREFACE 


The  Fifth  Pbogressive  Eeader  may  be  appro- 
priately styled  an  Historical  Reader.  Scarcely  a,  lesson 
in  the  book  but  possesses  historical  interest  and  value , 
not  even  excepting  the  poetical  selections,  many  of 
•which  are  admirably  adapted  for  declamation.  Every 
lesson  in  the  book  bears  the  stamp  of  excellence.  They 
have  been  selected  from  authors  of  the  highest  merit, 
and,  for  the  special  purpose  of  reading  lessons,  com- 
bine every  quality  that  can  be  desired.  The  style  is 
pure  and  attractive,  the  subjects  are  interesting  and  in- 
structive. 

Among  the  authors  from  whom  new  selections  have 
been  made,  are,  Darras,  Lingard,  Sister  Mary  Francis 
Clare,  Lacordaire,  Archbishop  Spalding,  Longfellow 
Miles,  Prescott,  Bancroft,  and  others  of  distinguished 
ability  and  reputation. 

The  want  of  a  Reader  for  the  higher  classes,  of  t' 

^^40589 


Iv  ^  •  PREFACE. 

plan  and  scope  of  this,  has  long  been  felt.  We  have 
had  a  surfeit  of  reading  matter  either  too  dry  and  un- 
interesting, or  too  empty  and  declamatory,  neither  fit- 
ted to  impart  useful  information  ,nor  a  taste  for  a  sim- 
ple, pure,  and  elegant  style  of  composition. 


CONTENTS. 


•  PAGE. 

Piefaco 3 

Vowel  So'.J!uds > 11 

Vocal  Co'i';onf*nts 12 

PvlINCIPLS.S  OF  ELOCUTION 13 

The  Infljctions  of  the  Voice 34 

.  Harmor.)  3  Inflection 46 

Echo 48 

The  Monotone 49 

Circumflexes 49 

CUmax 50 

Accent 50 

Emphasis 52 

Single  Emphasis 52 

Double  Emphasis 53 

Treble  Emphasis 53 

The  Antecedent 54 

General  Emphasis c 54 

The  Intermediate,  or  Elliptical  Member 55 

Rhetorical  Pauses 55 

**     lES  EOR  BEADING  VERSE 60 

9n  the  Slides  or  Inflections  of  Verse 60 

T)n  the  Accent  and  Emphasis  of  Verse 62 

How  the  Vowels  e  and  o  are  to  be  pronounced,  when  apostro- 
phized   i 63 

On  the  Pause  of  Caesura  of  Verse 63 

On  the  Cadence  of  Verse :  - 64 

How  to  pronounce  a  Simile  in  Poetry 65 

General  Rules 65 

On  Scanning 66 


n  CONTENTS. 

EEADING  LESSONS. 

PEOSE. 

I-ESSON.  PiGE. 

1.  Pope  St.  Leo  the  Great  and  Attila Darras,     6S 

3.  Alfred  the  Great Cottier,     77 

4.  The  Story  of  King  Alfred  and  Saint  Cuthbert Freeman,    82 

7.  The  Church Macavlay,    91 

8.  The  Same— Cbntinued 93 

10.  The  Discontented  Pendulum Jane  Taylor,    98 

12.  Eip  Van  Winkle Irviji^},  10b 

14.  True  Fraternity  Produced  only  by  Catholic  Faith  or  Teaching, 

^Mcordaire,  116 

15.  Control  of  the  Temper Henry  Giles,  123 

17.  Description  of  Virginia Bancroft,  127 

18.  The  Discovery  of  the  Hudson  Eiver Irving,  129 

19.  Last  Voyage  of  Henry  Hudson Anon,  135 

22.  The  Discovery  of  the  Mississippi  Eiver Bancroft,  141 

25.  Execution  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots Lingard,  151 

27.  Joan  of  Arc Lingard,  159 

28.  The  S&me— Continued 163 

31.  A  Description  of  the  Banishment  of  the  Acadians  from  their 

Eural  Homes  in  Nova  Scotia Bancroft,  170 

43.  Settlement  of  Maryland Gafuliame,  2G5 

45.  Maryland W.  G.  Reed,  274 

47.  Mountains William  Howit,  2S0 

48.  Ireland C.  E.  Lester,  282 

53.  The  Taking  of  Babylon  by  Cyrus E&rodotus,  301 

54.  The  ^d^me— Continued 305 

56.  Memory  and  Hope Paulding,  313 

58.  The  Truce  of  God Fredet,  321 

61.  Our  Saviour Lacordaire,  b26 

63.  Death  of  St  Thomas  k  Becket,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 

Lingard,  333 
65.  The  First  Crusade MicheleL  346 


CONTENTS.  Vii 

6G.  Peter  the  Hermit Mii^haud,  351 

70.  St  Peter's JBustaoe,  359 

72.  The  Pyramids Clarke,  367 

74.  Catholic  Missions  in  the  Northwest Bancroft,  373 

75.  The  Same—Cordinued 378 

78.  First  Landing  of  Columbus Irving,  386 

79.  The  S&me— Continued. .  .^ 390 

80.  The  Death  of  Montezuma Robertson,  395 

81.  The  Discovery  of  Peru Prescott,  399 

82.  The  Same— Continued 402 

83.  *•        ♦•  •*        407 

85.  Character  and  Burial  of  De  Soto Irving,  416 

m.  The  EngUsh  Invaders M.  F.  Ousack,  428 

90.  The  Cruelty  of  Cromwell  in  Ireland '»  434 

92.  Si  Bernard Montalembert,  443 

93.  The  Liberty  of  the  Gospel Lacordaire,  446 

94.  The  S&me— Continued 449 


POETEY. 

LESSON. 

2.  The  Tyrant  and  the  Captive Adelaide  A  rrodor,  74 

5.  The  Ivory  Crucifix G.  H.  Miles,  86 

6.  The  ^dimQ— Continued 89 

9.  On  Conversation C&ijoptr,  95 

11.  The  Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs Longfdlow,  103 

13.  To  a  Waterfowl Bryant,  115 

16    Eesignation Lorujfzllow,  125 

20.  What  is  Glory , MoihtrweU,  138 

21.  The  Spanish  Conquests  in  America Montgcmery,  140 

23.  Prospects  of  Arts  and  Learning  in  America Berkeley,  148 

24.  Press  On Benjamin,  149 

26.  Mary  Stewart  and  H3r  Mourner Bdwer,  155 

29.  Work  and  Rest Anon,  167 

yO   BHght  and  Bloom Gec-rge  E   Miles.  168 


VUl 


CONTENTS. 


32. 
33. 
34. 
35. 
36. 
37. 
38, 
S9. 

xO. 

41. 
42. 
44. 
46. 

49. 
50. 
51. 
52. 
55. 
'>7. 
69. 
60. 
62. 
64. 
67. 
68. 
69. 
71. 
73. 
76. 
67. 
84. 
88. 
93. 


Evangeline LongfeUow, 

Evangeline — Coviinued 


The  Good  Old  Times Neale, 

The  Female  Martyr Whltlier, 

The  Deserted  Village Ooldsmith, 

The  Deserted  Village — Oontinued 


Vision  of  Belshazzer Byron, 

Christmas Lord  John  Manners, 

The  Flight  of  Xerxes Jewshury, 

The  American  Patriot's  Song Anonymous, 

The  Birth  of  Our  Saviour Bommet, 

Monk  Fehx Longfellow, 

The  Battle  of  Hohenlinden,  1800 Thomas  Campbell, 

Song  of  the  Greeks,  1822 *' 

Full  of  Warsaw " ♦* 

St.  Peter's  Church  at  Kome Byron, 

The  Forest Bryatyt, 

The  Heroes  of  Seventy-Six '• 

The  Mutiny— Sight  of  Land,  etc Eogers. 

The  Angel  of  Buena  Vista Whittier, 

The  O'Kavanagh J.  Augustus  Shea, 

The  Song  of  the  Cossuck liev.  FVancla  Mahony, 


174 

175 

184 

19 

201 

21] 

221 

226 

237 

245 

255 

270 

279 

284 

290 

292 

296 

310 

319 

323 

325 

331 

341 

353 

355 

357 

3fU 

370 

382 

383 

411 

426 

44() 


11 


TABLE  OF  VOWEL   SOUNDS. 

This  table  is  designed  for  an  exercise  upon  the  vowel  elements.  Thesa 
should  be  pronounced  alone  as  well  as  in  combination  with  the  words 
given  as  examples.     Let  the  class  first  pronounce  the  table  in  order,  thus : 

A  long,  Fate,  a ;  A  short,  Fat,  a,  &c. ;  then  pronounce  the  column  of  ele- 
ments alone. 


Name. 

Example. 

Element. 

Name.                  Example.    E 

LEMENt 

A  long 
A  short 

J^ate 
Fat 

a 
a 

0  Ions:   and    )    ^^ 
close            r*^-" 

6 

Italian 

Far 

a 

U  long              Tube 

u 

A  broad 

Fall 

a 

TJ  short            .Tilb 

ii 

E  long 

Mete 

0 

U  middle  or  )  _ 
obtuse         P«^" 

A 

E   short 

Met 

e 

I    long 
I    short 

Pine 
Pin  - 

I 
1 

U  short   and  ) 
obtuse         S  ^^^ 

a 

O  long 

Note 

6 

01   and  OY      Boil 

ot 

0  short 

'Not 

0 
JLQUIYJ 

OUaudOW     Botlnd 

ILENTS.     - 

oA 

r,  J  short  and  obtuse,  I  „ -^ 
■Ei   \     like  u  in  Ffir      \  ^^^"^ 

' 

U      like  0  in  Move       PwSle 

I       like  E  long 

Machine          i 

Y      like  I  long               Typo 

f 

T     j  short  anrt  obtuse,  )  .- 
i-    1     like  tl  in  Fill-     T^"^ 

0      like  A  broad            N6r 

i 
6 

Y      like  I  short              Symbol 

-^   j  short  and  obtuse,  K^  «,..,„ 
1    i      liketiinFUr     ^^y'^le 

f 

y 

0      like  U  short 

Son 

6 

E  W  like  U  long            Ne^ 

els' 

TABLE  OF   CONSONANT  SOUNDS. 

This  table  should  be  treated  by  the  class  in  the  same  «nanner  a3  the 
table  of  vowel  sounds.  The  sound  of  a  consonant  may  be  ascertained  by 
pronouncing  a  word  containing  it  in  a  slow  and  forcible  manner. 

Vocal  Consonants  are  those  uttered  with  a  slight  degree  of  vocality, 
but  loss  than  that  of  a  vowel.  They  are  formed  with  a  vibration  of  iho 
vocal  chords. 

Aspirate  Consonants  are  those  in  which  the  pure  breath  alone  ia 
heard.     They  arc  formed  without  any  vibration  of  the  vocal  chords. 


12 


VOCAL   CONSONANTS.' 


YfiMM. 

EZAHPLB. 

Eleubkt. 

Namr. 

Example,    fe 

LKMSTf) 

B 

Babe 

b 

R 

(trilled) 

Rap 

r 

D 

Did 

d 

R 

(untrilled) 

Nor 

r 

G  hard 

Gag 

g 

TH  soft 

Thine 

tli 

J 

Joy 

j 

V 

Valve 

V 

L 

Lull    • 

1 

W 

Wine 

w 

M 

Maim 

ra 

Y 

Yes 

y 

N 

Nun 

n 

Z 

Zeal 

2 

NG 

Sing 

ng 

ZH 

(orZ) 

Azure 

zh 

ASPIRATE     CONSONANTS. 


CH 

Church 

ch 

T 

Tent 

t 

F 

Fife 

f 

S 

Seal 

s 

H* 

Hold 

h 

SH 

Shine 

Bh 

K 

Kirk 

k 

TH  sharp 

Thin 

th 

P 

Pipe 

P 

EQUIVALENTS. 


C  soft,  like  8 

^ease 

9 

S  soft,  like  z 

Muse 

? 

C  hard,  like  k 

Cake 

c 

S  like  zh 

Vision 

8 

Ch  hard,  like  k 

Chasm 

ch 

Q  like  k 

Coquette 

q 

Ch  soft,  like  sh 

^haise 

9h 

X  like  ks 

Tax 

X 

G  soft,  like  j 

Giant 

g 

X  like  gz 

Exalt 

J 

Ph  like  f 

Seraph 

ph 

Q  has  the  sound  of  k,  and  is  always  followed  bj  u,  \f'hich,  in  this  posi- 
tion, commonly  has  the  sound  of  w,  but  is  sometimes  silent. 
WH  is  an  aspirated  w,  pronounced  as  if  written  hio. 


'  Sometimes  called  Subvocals,  or  Snbtonics. 

'  H  8onnded  before  a  vowel,  is  an  expulsion  of  the  breath  after  the  organs  are  m  a 
position  to  eonnd  the  vowel. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 


Elocution  is  an  important  branch  of  oratory;  so 
important,  that  eloquence  borrows  its  name  from  it. 
The  theory  consists  of  certain  rules,  which  should  be 
observed  by  all  who  read  or  speak  in  private  companies 
or  public  assemblies.  In  practice  elocution  consists  m 
the  art  of  reading,  or  speaking,  with  propriety  and 
elegance;  or  of  delivering  our  words  in  a  just  and 
graceful  manner;  untainted  with  pedantry  or  affec- 
tation, and  uncorrupted  with  any  provincial  sound  or 
dialect. 

It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  every  young  gentleman 
should  be  acquainted  with  the  science  of  elocution, 
especially  those  who  are  intended  for  the  pulpit,  the 
senate,  the  bar,  or  the  stage ;  so  that  very  few  persona 
need  be  told,  that  a  graceful  elocution  is  of  the  highes'. 
importance.  Everybody  will  allow,  that  what  a  man 
has  occasion  daily  to  do,  should  be  done  well ;  yet  so 
little  attention  has  sometimes  been  paid  to  this  accom- 
plishment, even  from  those,  in  whO!ai  (from  their  pro 
fessions  as  public  speakers)  we  have  been  led  to  expect 
p  perfect  model  of  the  art,  that  it  has  tended  to  eclipse 


14  ...    ..PMNGIPLBS'rOF    ELOCUTION. 

Sll  tlieiT  ofher  meri£s,  however  great ;  while  others,  of 
inferior  attainments,  by  the  help  of  a  tolerably  good 
style,  and  a  just  elocution,  have  risen  to  considerable 
eminence. 

A  graceful  elocution  is,  to  a  good  style,  what  a  good 
style  is  to  the  subject  matter  of  a  discourse,  an  efifectuaj 
ornament :  for,  if  the  subject  of  a  discourse  be  ever  so 
intrferesting,  and  the  speaker's  knowledge  ever  so  pro- 
found, without  a  correct  style  the  discourse  must  suiOTer 
greatly  in  its  reputation;  and  though  the  speaker's 
abilities  be  of  the  first  eminence,  and  the  style  good, 
with  a  bad  elocution,  or  delivery,  it  will  fare  little 
better:  —  so  great  an  effect  have  these  exterior  accom- 
plishments over  the  public  taste.  Indeed,  the  great 
design  and  end  of  a  good  pronunciation  is,  to  make  th^ 
ideas  seem  to  come  from  the  heart ;  and  then  they  will 
not  fail  to  excite  the  attention  and  affections  of  those 
who  hear  us  read  or  speak. 

The  principal  design  which  we  have  in  view  is  to  show : 

First.  What  a  bad  pronunciation  is,  and  how  to 
avoid  it. 

Secondly.  What  a  good  pronunciation  is,  and  how  to 
attaiyi  it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  may  be  necessftry  to  mention, 
that  a  chief  fault  of  pronunciation  is,  when  the  voice  i» 
too  loud.  This  is  very  disagreeable  to  the  hearer,  and 
inconvenient  to  the  speaker.  It  will  be  disagreeable  to 
the  hearers,  if  they  be  persons  of  good  taste ;  who  will 
look  upon  it  to  be^he  effect  of  ignorance  or  affectation. 
Besides,  an  overstrained  voice  is  very  inconvenient  to 
the  speaker,  as  well  as  disgustful  to  judicious  hearers 


PKINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  15 

ft  ejfliausts  liis  spirits  tc  no  purpose,  and  takes  from 
him  the  proper  management  and  modulation  of  his  voico 
according  to  the  sense  of  his  subject ;  and,  what  is 
worst  of  all,  it  leads  him  into  what  is  called  a  tone. 
Every  person's  voice  should  fill  the  place  where  lie 
speaks ;  but,  if  it  exceed  its  natural  key,  it  will  be  nei- 
ther sweet,  nor  soft,  nor  agreeable,  because  he  will  not 
be  able  to  give  every  word  its  proper  sound. 

Another  fault  in  pronunciation  is,  when  the  voice  is  too 
low.  This  is  not  so  inconvenient  to  the  speaker,  but  it 
is  as  disagreeable  to  the  hearer,  as  the  other  extreme. 
It  is  offensive  to  an  audience,  to  observe  anything  in  the 
reader  or  speaker  that  looks  like  indolence  or  inatten- 
tion. The  hearer  can  never  be  affected  while  he  per- 
ceives the  speaker  indifferent.  The  art  of  governing 
the  voice  consists  chiefxy  in  avoiding  these  two  extremes ; 
and,  for  a  general  rule  to  direct  us  herein,  the  following 
is  a  very  good  one  :  '^  Be  careful  to  preserve  the  key  of 
your  voice ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  adapt  the  eleva- 
tion and  strength  of  it  to  the  condition  and  number  of 
the  persons  you  speak  to,  and  the  nature  of  the  place 
you  speak  in."  It  would  be  altogether  as  ridiculous  in 
a  general,  who  is  haranguing  an  army,  to  speak  in  a 
low  and  languid  voi  ,  as  in  a  person,  who  reads  a 
chapter  in  a  family  circle,  or  the  narrative  of  any  par- 
ticular historical  occurrence,  to  speak  in  a  loud  and 
eager  one. 

A^ioiher  fault  in  pronunciation  is,  a  thicJc,  hasty,  chat 
terimj  voice.  When  a  person  mumbles,  that  is,  leaves 
out  some  syllables  in  the'  long  words,  and  never  pro- 
lounces  some  of  the  short  ones  at  all :   but  hurries   3n 


16  PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

witliout  any  regard  whether  he  be  heard  distinctly  of 
not,  or  whether  he  give  his  words  their  full  utterance, 
or  whether  his  hearers  are  impressed  with  the  full  sense 
and  meaning  of  them.  This,  however,  is  frequently 
owing  to  defect  in  the  organs  of  speech,  or  a  too  great 
tremulation  or  flutter  of  the  animal  spirits ;  but  oftener 
to  a  bad  habit  which  he  has  not  attempted  to  correct. 
Demosthenes,  the  greatest  orator  Greece  ever  produced, 
had,  it  is  said,  three  natural  impediments  in  pronuncia- 
tion, all  of  which  he  conquered  by  invincible  labor  and 
perseverance.  One  was  a  weakness  of  voice ;  which  he 
cured  by  frequently  declaiming  on  the  sea-shore,  amidst 
the  noise  of  the  waves.  Another  was  a  shortness  of 
breath ;  which  he  mended  by  repeating  his  orations  aa 
he  walked  up  a  hill.  And  the  other  was  the  fault  we 
are  speaking  of;  a  thick  mumbling  way  of  speaking; 
which  he  broke  himself  of  by  declaiming  with  pebbles 
in  his  mouth. 

Another  fault  in  pronunciation  is,  when  persons  speaJi 
too  quickly.  This  method  of  reading  is  well  enough 
among  lawyers,  in  examining  leases,  perusing  inden- 
tures, or  reciting  acts  of  Congress,  where  there  is 
always  a  superfluity  of  words ;  or  in  reading  a  news- 
paper, where  there  is  but  little  matter  that  deser  res  our 
attention ;  but  it  is  very  improper  in  reading  books  of 
devotion  and  instruction,  and  especially  the  sacred 
Scriptures,  where-  the  solemnity  of  the  subject,  or  the 
weight  of  the  sense,  demands  a  particular  regard.  The 
great  disadvantage  which  attends  this  manner  of  pro- 
nunciation is,  that  the  hearer  loses  the  benefit  of  half 
the  good  things  he  hears,  and  would  fain  remember,  bui 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  17 

cannot :  and  a  speaker  should  always  have  a  regard  to 
the  memory  as  well  as  to  the  understanding  of  his 
hearers. 

As  it  is  a  fault  to  speak  too  quickly,  so  it  is  likewise 
a  blemish  in  elocution  to  apeak  too  slowly.  Some  persons 
are  apt  to  read  or  speak  in  a  heavy,  droning,  sleepy 
way ;  and,  through  mere  carelessness,  make  pauses  at 
improper  places.  This  is  very  disagreeable :  but  to 
hem,  sneeze,  yawn,  or  cough,  between  the  periods,  is 
much  more  so.  A  too  slow  elocution  is  most  faulty  in 
reading  trifles,  subjects  that  do  not  require  much  atten 
tion.  It  then  renders  every  sentence  tedious.  A  too 
slow  elocution,  however,  is  a  fault  rarely  to  be  found, 
unless  in  aged  people,  and  those  who  naturally  speal* 
s€>  in  common  conversation :  but  in  these,  if  the  pro- 
nunciation be  in  other  respects  just,  decent,  and  proper, 
and  especially  if  the  subject  be  weighty  or  intricate,  it 
is  more  excusable,  and  is* frequently  overlooked. 

An  irregular  or  uneven  voice  is  a  great  fault  in  reading 
or  speaking.  This  happens,  when  the  voice  rises  and 
falls  by  fits  or  starts,  as  it  is  generally  termed ;  that  is, 
when  it  is  elevated  or  depressed  unnaturally  or  unsea- 
Bonably,  without  regard  to  the  sense  of  the  passage  and 
the  meaning  of  the  author,  or  to  the  points  or  stops  in 
a  just  method  of  punctuation ;  or  in  always  beginning 
a  sentence  with  a  high  voice,  and,  on  the  contrary, 
concluding  it  with  a  low  one,  or  always  beginning  and 
concluding  it  in  the  same  key. 

Another  fault,  which  may  be  looked  upon  as  the 
direct  opposite  to  this,  is  a  flat,  dull,  uniform  tone  of 
voice;  without  emphasis  cr  cadence,  or  even  regard  to  th« 


18  PKINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

seJise  or  snhjeot  of  what  is  read  or  spoken.  This  is  a  habit 
which  children,  who  have  been  used  to  read  their  lessons 
by  way  of  task,  are  very  apt  to  fall  into,  and  retain  as 
they  grow  up.  Indeed,  it  is  a  great  blemish  when  it 
becomes  habitual ;  because  it  deprives  the  hearer  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  benefit  he  might  otherwise  receive 
by  a  close  attention  to  the  interesting  parts  of  the  sub- 
ject, which  should  always  be  distinguished  by  the  pro- 
nunciation :  for  a  just  pronunciation  is  a  good  com- 
mentary; and  therefore  no  person  ought  to  read  a 
chapter  of  the  Bible  or  a  Psalm,  in  public,  or  a  speech 
in  a  play,  or  a  poetical  extract,  before  he  has  carefully 
read  it  over  himself  once  or  twice  in  private. 

The  greatest  and  most  common  fault  is  that  of  reading 
or  speaking  with  what  is  called  a  tone.  There  is  not  any 
habit  more  easy  to  be  contracted  than  this,  nor  more 
difficult  to  be  conquered.  This  unnatural  tone  in  read- 
ing and  speaking  is  very  various ;  but,  whatever  it  be, 
it  is  always  disgustful  to  persons  of  delicacy  and  judg- 
ment. Some  have  a  womanish  squeaking  tone ;  which 
persons  whose  voices  are  shrill  and  weak,  and  over- 
strained, are  very  liable  to  fall  into.  Some  have  a 
singing  or  canting  note :  others  assume  a  high,  swelling, 
theatrical  tone ;  and,  being  ambitious  of  the  fame  of 
fine  orators,  lay  too  much  stress  or  emphasis  on  every 
sentence,  and  thereby  transgress  the  rules  of  true 
oratory.  Some  afiect  an  awful  and  striking  tone, 
attended  with  solemn  grimace,  as  if  they  would  move 
the  hearer  with  every  word  they  utter,  whether  tho 
weight  of  the  subject  bear  them  out  in  that  method  or 
not.     This  is  what  persons  of  a  gloomy  or  melancholy 


PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  1& 

V 

cast  of  riind  are  most  likely  to  fall  Into.  Some  have  a 
set,  unifcrm  tone  of  voice,  and  others  an  odd,  whimsical, 
whining  tone,  peculiar  to  themselves,  and  which  cannot 
be  well  described ;  only,  that  it  is  an  improper  laying 
of  the  emphasis  on  words  which  do  not  require  or  de 
serve  it. 

Such  are  the  common  faults  of  a  bad  pronunciation. 

We  now  proceed,  in  the  second  place,  to  point  out 
how  a  bad  pronunciation  is  to  be  avoided.  And  to  this 
end,  it  will  be  exceedingly  proper  that  a  person  should 
not  read  in  too  loud  nor  in  too  low  a  voice.  If  a  person 
would  not  read  in  a  voice  which  is  too  loud  or  strong, 
nor  in  one  that  is  too  low,  or  faint,  or  weak,  he  should 
consider  whether  his  voice  be  naturally  too  low  or  too 
loud,  and  endeavor  to  correct  it  accordingly  in  his  daily 
ordinary  conversation ;  by  which  means  he  will  be  better 
able  to  correct  it  in  reading.  If  his  voice  be  too  low, 
he  should  converse  with  those  who  are  hard  of  hearing ; 
if  too  loud,  with  those  whose  voices  are  low.  He 
skould  begin  his  periods  with  an  even  moderate  voice, 
that  he  may  have  such  a  command  of  it,  as  to  be  able 
to  raise  or  depress  it  as  the  subject  requires. 

In  order  to  cure  a  thick,  confused,  cluttering  voice,  a 
person  should  accustom  himself,  in  conversation,  read- 
ing, and  speaking,  to  pronounce  every  word  distinctly 
and  clearly.  He  ought  to  observe  with  what  delibera- 
tion some  persons  converse  and  read,  and  how  full  a 
sound  they  give  to  every  word;  and  closely  imitate 
them.  He  should  never  affect  to  contract  his  words,  as 
some  have  done,  or  run  two  into  one.  This  may  do 
very  well  in  conversation,  or  in  reading  familiar  dia- 


50  PRINCIPLBS   OF   ELOCUTION. 

logues,  but  it  is  not  so  decent  nor  so  decorous  in  grave 
and  solemn  subjects ;  especially  in  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, sermons,  or  extracts  from  religious  books.  It 
appears,  from  the  case  of  Demosthenes,  that  this  fault 
of  pronunciation  cannot  be  cured  without  much  difficulty, 
nor  will  the  remedy  which  he  adopted  be  found  effectual 
without  a  considerable  share  of  perseverance. 

To  break  a  habit  of  reading  or  speaking  too  fast,  a 
person  must  attend  diligently  to  the  sense,  weight,  and 
propriety  of  every  sentence  he  has  occasion  to  read,  and 
of  every  emphatical  word  contained  therein.  This  will 
not  only  operate  as  an  advantage  to  himself,  but  be  a 
double  one  to  those  who  hear  him ;  for  it  will  at  once 
give  them  time  to  do  the  same,  and  excite  their  atten- 
tion when  they  perceive  the  speaker's  is  fixed.  A 
Bolemn  pause  after  a  weighty  thought  is  not  only  beau- 
tiful but  striking.  A  well-timed  cessation  or  pause  gives 
as  much  grace  to  speech  as  it  does  to  music.  Let  a 
person  imagine  that  he  is  reading  to  persons  of  slow  and 
unready  conceptions;  but  he  must  not  measure  the 
hearer's  apprehension  by  his  own.  If  he  does,  he  may 
possibly  outrun  it.  And,  as  in  reading  he  is  not  at 
liberty  to  repeat  his  words  and  sentences,  that  should 
engage  him  to  be  very  deliberate  in  pronouncing  them, 
that  their  sense  may  not  be  misconceived  or  lost.  The 
ease  and  advantage  that  will  arise  both  to  the  reader 
and  hearer,  by  a  free,  full,  and  deliberate  pronunciation, 
is  hardly  to  be  conceived.  A  too  slow  pronunciation  is 
a  fault  which  very  few  are  likely  to  fall  into. 

To  ewe  an  uneven,  desultory  voice,  a  person  should 
take  care  that  he  does  not  begin  his  periods  either  in  too 


PRINCIPLES  OP  ELOCUTION,  21 

high  or  in  too  low  a  Tcey ;  for  that  will  necessarily  lead 
him  to  an  unnatural  and  improper  variation  of  it.  He 
should  have  particular  legard  to  the  nature  and  quan- 
tity of  his  points,  and  the  length  of  his  periods';  and 
keep  his  mind  intent  on  the  sense,  subject,  and  spirit 
of  his  author. 

It  is  very  requisite  that  similar  directions  should  be 
given  to  every  young  gentleman  destined  to  read  or 
speak  in  public,  that  he  may  constantly  avoid  a  mono- 
tony in  pronunciation ;  that  is,  a  dull,  set,  uniform  tone 
of  voice :  and,  if  the  mind  of  the  student  be  attentive 
to  the  sense  of  the  subject  iTefore  him,  he  will  naturally 
manage  and  modulate  his  voice  agreeably  to  the  nature 
and  importance  of  the  subject. 

In  order  to  avoid  all  kinds  of  unnatural  and  disagree- 
able tones,  he  must  endeavor  to  speak  with  the  same  ease 
and  freedom  as  he  would  do,  on  the  same  subject,  in  pri- 
vate conversation.  You  do  not  hear  any  person  converse 
in  a  tone,  unless  he  has  the  accent  of  some  other 
country,  or  has  contracted  a  habit  of  altering  the  natural 
key  of  his  voice  when  he  is  talking  of  some  serious 
subject,  of  religion  particularly.  But  I  do  not  see  any 
particular  reason  why,  in  common  conversation,  we 
speak  in  a  natural  voice,  with  proper  accent  and  em- 
phasis ;  yet,  so  soon  as  we  begin  to  read  or  talk  of  reli- 
gion, or  speak  in  public,  we  should  immediately  assume 
a  stiff,  awkward,  unnatural  tone.  If  we  are  indeed 
deeply  affected  with  the  subject  we  read  or  talk  of,  the 
voice  will  naturally  vary  according  to  the  passion  ex- 
cited; but  if  we  vary  it  unnaturally,  only  to  seem 
affected,  or  with  a  desicjn  to  affect  others,  it  then   be- 


22  PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

comes  a  tone,  and  is  offensive.  In  reading,  then,  a 
person  should  attend  to  his  subject,  and  deliver  it  as  he 
would  do  if  he  were  talking  of  it.  This  is  the  great, 
general,  and  most  important  rule  of  all ;  which,  if  care- 
fully observed,  will  correct  not  only  these  but  almost  all 
other  faults  in  a  bad  pronunciation ;  and  give  an  easy, 
decent,  and  graceful  delivery,  agreeably  to  all  the  rules 
of  a  right  elocution.  For,  however  apt  we  are  to  trans- 
gress them  in  reading,  we  follow  them  naturally  and 
easily  in  conversation :  even  children  will  tell  a  story 
with  all  the  natural  graces  and  beauties  of  pronuncia- 
tion, however  .awkwardly  tliey  may  read  the  same  from 
a  book.  Dr.  Watts,  in  his  "Art  of  Beading,"  says: 
"Let  the  tone  and  sound  of  your  voice  in  reading 
he  the  same  as  it  is  in  sjpeaking^  and  do  not  affect 
to  change  that  natural  and  easy  sound  wherewith 
you  speak .^  for  a  strange,  new,  awkward  tone,  as  some 
do  when  they  begin  to  read;  which  would  almost  per- 
suade our  ears,  that  the  speaker  and  the  reader  were 
two  different  persons,  if  our  eyes  did  not  tell  us  the 
contraiy." 

It  is  necessary  that  we  now  pay  attention  to  the 
iecond  principal  head  of  our  subject,  and  that  is,  wliai 
a  good  'pronunciation  is,  and  how  to  attain  it. 

In  this  branch  of  elocution  there  are  several  things  to 
be  adverted  to  ;  and,  first,  we  must  observe,  that  a  good 
pronunciation  in  reading  or  speaking,  is  the  art  of 
managing  and  governing  the  voice  so  as  to  express  the 
full  sense  and  spirit  of  the  author,  in  that  just,  decent, 
and  graceful  manner,  which  will  not  only  instruct  but 
affect  the  minds  of  the  hearers  ;  and  which  will  not  only 


PRINCIPLES  OB   ELOCUTION.  2!5 

raise  in  them  the  same  ideas  the  speaker  intended  to 
convey,  but  the  same  passions  he  really  felt.  This  is 
the  great  end  of  speaking  or  reading  before  others,  and 
this  end  can  only  be  attained  by  a  proper  and  just 
method  of  pronunciation. 

And  hence  we  may  learn  wherein  a  good  pronun- 
ciation in  speaking  consists ;  which  is  not  anything  but 
a  natural,  easy,  and  graceful  variation  of  the  voice, 
Buitable  to  the  nature  and  importance  of  the  sentiments 
we  deliver. 

A  good  pronunciation,  in  both  these  respects,  is  more 
easily  attained  by  some  persons  than  by  others ;  because 
some  can  more  readily  enter  into  the  sense  and  senti- 
ments of  an  author,  and  more  easily  discover  their  own, 
than  others  can ;  and  at  the  same  time  have  a  more 
happy  facility  of  expressing  all  the  proper  variations 
and  modulations  of  the  voice.  Thus,  persons  of  a  quick 
apprehension  and  brisk  flow  of  animal  spirits  (setting 
aside  all  impediments  of  the  organs)  have  generally  a 
more  lively,  just,  and  natural  elocution,  than  persons  of 
a  slow  perception  and  a  phlegmatic  cast.  However,  it 
may  in  a  great  degree  be  attained  by  every  one  that 
will  carefully  attend  to,  and  practice,  those  rules  that 
are  conducive  to  the  acquisition. 

In  a  just  elocution,  a  particular  regard  should  be  paid 
to  the  PAUSES,  the  emphasis,    and  the  cadence. 

With  respect  to  the  pauses  necessary  to  be  observed 
in  reading,  a  person  will,  in  a  good  measure,  be  directed 
by  the  points ;  but  not  perfectly,  for  there  are  but  few 
books  that  are  correctly  pointed,  according  to  the  true 
principles  of  grammar  and  reason. 


24  PRINCIPLES  OP  HLOCUTIOA. 

The  points  serve  two  purposes,  viz.,  first,  to  distinguish 
the  sense  of  the  author;  and,  secondly,  to  direct  the 
pronunciation  of  the  reader. 

A  speaker  or  reader  is  not  to  draw  or  fetch  breath,  as 
it  is  termed,  if  it  can  be  avoided,  till  he  arrives  at  the 
period  or  full  stop  ;  but  a  discernible  pause  is  to  be  made 
at  every  one,  according  to  its  proper  quantity  of  Jura- 
tion. Where  the  periods  are  very  long,  the  speakei  may 
take  breath  at  a  colon  or  semicolon,  and  sometimei  even 
at  a  comma,  but  never  where  there  is  no  point  at  all. 
To  break  a  habit  of  taking  breath  too  often,  in  reading 
or  speaking,  a  person  should  accustom  himself  to  read 
long  periods,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  first  sixteen  lines 
of  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost." 

Of  Man's  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world  and  all  our  woe, 
With  loss  of  Eden,  till  one  greater  man 
Restore  us  and  regain  the  blissful  seat, 
Sing,  heav'nly  muse,  that,  on  the  secret  top 
Of  Oreb  or  of  Sinai,  didst  inspire 
That  shepherd  who  first  taught  the  chosen  seed 
In  the  beginning,  how  the  heav'ns  and  earth 
Rose  out  of  chaos  :  or,  if  Sion  hill 
Delight  thee  more,  and  Siloa's  brook  that  flow'd 
Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God,  T  thence 
Invoke  thy  aid  to  my  advent'rous  song, 
That,  with  no  middle  flight,  intends  to  soar 
Above  th'  Aonian  mount,  while  it  pursues 
Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme. 

It  is  frequently  necessary  to  regulate  the  pauses 
well  as  the  variations  of  the  voice,  by  a  careful  attention 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  2ft 

to  the  gense  and  the  importance  of  the  subject,  rather 
than  to  the  punctuation. 

The  emphasis  is  another  peculiar  branch  of  a  just 
elocution,  and  is  to  be  particularly  regarded  in  reading 
or  speaking.  With  respect  to  this  portion  of  our  subject, 
it  is  necessary  that  a  person  should  be  exceedingly 
careful  that  it  be  always  laid  on  the  proper  emphatical 
word.  When  we  distinguish  any  particular  syllable  in 
a  word  with  a  strong  voice,  it  is  called  accent;  when  we 
thus  distinguish  any  particular  word  in  a  sentence,  it  is 
denominated  emphasis,  and  the  word  so  distinguished  is 
the  emphatical  word.  And  the  emphatical  words  (for 
there  are  often  more  than  one)  in  a  sentence,  are  those 
which  carry  a  weight  or  importance  in  themselves,  or 
are  those  on  which  the  sense  of  the  rest  depends ;  and 
these  must  always  be  distinguished  by  a  fuller  and 
stronger  sound  of  voice,  wherever  they  be  found,  whether 
in  the  beginning,  the  middle,  or  the  end  of  a  sentence , 
as  in  the  following  couplets : 

"  Get  place  and  wealth,  if  possible,  with  grcKx  ; 
If  not,  by  any  means  get  wealth  and  place."  Pope. 

"  Some  have  at  first  for  wits,  then  poets,  pass'd, 
Turn'd  critics  next,  and  prov'd  plain  fools  at  last."      Ibid, 

In  these  quotations,  the  emphatical  words  are  put  lo 
italics;  and  which  they  are,  the  sense  will  generally 
discover. 

It  is  necessary  to  be  somewhat  more  particular  on  the 
subject  of  emphasis ;  and  here  I  shall  make  a  few  brief 
remarks  on  matters  of  this  nature. 


So  PfilNCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 

1.  That  some  sentences  are  so  full  and  comprehensive, 
that  almost  every  word  is  emphatical ;  and  it  is  of  the 
greatest  consequence  to  mark  the  emphatical  word  hy  a 
different  and  strong  modulation  of  the  voice :  as  in  the 
following  instance  of  pathetic  expostulation,  in  the 
prophecy  of  Ezekiel : 

"Why  will  ye  die?" 

Here  every  word  may  be  made  emphatical,  and  on 
which  ever  word  a  person  lays  the  emphasis,  whether  on 
the  first,  second,  third,  or  fourth,  it  conveys  a  very  dif- 
ferent sense,  and  opens  a  new  subject  of  moving  expof*- 
tulation. 

2.  Some  sentences  are  equivocal,  as  well  as  some 
words ;  that  is,  they  contain  more  senses  than  one ;  and 
which  is  the  sense  intended,  can  only  be  known  by 
observing  on  what  word  the  emphasis  is  laid.  Thus : 
"  Shall  you  ride  to  town  to-day  V  This  question  ia 
capable  of  being  taken  in  four  different  senses,  according 
to  the  different  words  on  which  you  lay  the  emphasis. 
If  it  be  laid  on  the  word  [yow],  the  answer  may  bo, 
"  No,  but  I  intend  to  send  my  servant."  If  it  be  laid 
on  the  word  [nc?e],  the  answer  may  be,  "  No,  I  intend 
to  walk."  If  you  place  the  accent  on  the  word  [town], 
it  is  a  different  question,  and  the  answer  may  be,  "  No, 
for  I  design  to  ride  into  the  country."     And  if  it  be 

vid  on  the  compound  word  [to-day'],  the  sense  is  still 
.-mewhat  different  from  any  of  these,  and  the  proper 
answer  may  be,  "  No,  but  I  shall  to-morrow."    Of  such 
importance  sometimes  is  a  right  disposition  of  the  em- 
phasis, in  order  to  determine  the  proper  sense  r»f  what 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  27 

ire  read  or  speak.  I  shall  illustrate  this  subject  by 
introducing  another  example :  thus,  this  short  sentence, 
"Did  Alexander  conquer  the  Persians?"  may  have 
three  different  meanings,  according  to  the  manner  in 
which  the  speaker  places  the  accent ;  and  the  emphasis 
has,  consequently,  three  different  places :  as,  when  the 
speaker  knew  that  the  Persians  were  conquered,  but  did 
not  know  by  whom ;  then  the  emphasis  is  placed  on  the 
word  Alexander  ;  as,  "  Did  Alexander  conquer  the  Per- 
sians?" When  it  is  known  that  Alexander  attempted 
the  conquest,  but  the  issue  is  not  known,  the  emphasis 
is  then  placed  on  the  word  conquer;  as,  "  Did  Alex- 
ander conquer  the  Persians?"  When  it  is  known  that 
he  conquered  the  adjacent  countries,  but  it  is  not  cer- 
tainly known  that  he  conquered  the  Persians,  the  em- 
phasis is  placed  on  the  word  Persians;  as,  "Did 
Alexander  conquer  the  Persians?'' 

3.  The  voice  must  express,  as  exactly  as  possible,  the 
very  sense  or  idea  designed  to  be  conveyed  by  the  em- 
phatical  word,  by  a  strong,  rough,  and  violent,  or  a  soft, 
smooth,  and  tender  sound.  Thus  the  different  passions 
of  the  mind  are  to  be  expressed  by  a  different  sound  or 
tone  of  voice.  Love,  by  a  soft,  smooth,  languishing 
voice;  anger,  by  a  strong,  vehement,  and  elevated 
voice ;  joy,  by  a  quick,  sweet,  and  clear  voice ;  sorrow, 
by  a  low,  flexible,  interrupted  voice;  fear,  by  a  de- 
jected, tremulous,  hesitating  voice ;  courage  hath  a  full, 
bold,  and  loud  voice ;  and  perplexity,  a  grave,  steady, 
and  earnest  one.  Briefly,  in  exordiums  the  voice  should 
be  1  ;w ;  in  narratvyns,  distinct ;  in  reasoning,  .slow ;  in 


^8  PRINCIPLES  or  ELOCUTION. 

persuasion,  strong :  it  should  thunder  in  anger ,  soften 
in  sorrow,  tremble  mfear,  and  melt  in  love. 

4.  The  variation  of  the  emphasis  must  not  only  dis- 
tinguish the  various  passions  described,  but  the  several 
forms  and  figures  of  speech  in  which  they  are  expressed  ; 
namely,  in  a  prosopopoeia,  we  must  change  the  voice  as 
the  person  introduced  would.  In  an  antithesis,  one 
contrary  must  be  pronounced  louder  than  the  other.  In 
a  climax,  the  voice  should  always  rise  with  it.  In  dia 
logues,  it  should  alter  with  the  parts.  In  repetitions,  it 
should  be  loudest  in  the  second  place.  Words  of  quality 
and  distinction,  or  of  praise  or  dispraise,  must  be  pro- 
nounced with  a  strong  emphasis. 

5.  The  emphasis  is  often  placed  on  a  wrong  word  in 
a  sentence.  This  is  the  most  common  fault,  and  most 
liable  to  be  committed,  and  arises  from  the  want  of  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  sense,  and  the  writer's 
ideas :  for,  if  the  reader  or  speaker  be  not  perfectly 
acquainted  with  the  exact  construction  and  full  meaning 
of  every  sentence  which  he  recites,  it  is  impossible  he 
should  give  those  inflexions  and  variations  of  the  voice 
which  nature  requires.  Some  persons,  finding  the  difii 
culty  of  rightly  placing  the  emphasis,  have  rejected  all 
emphasis  entirely,  and  read  with  a  dull,  stupid  mono 
tony,  which  is  the  worst  fault  of  all. 

Cadence  is  directly  opposite  to  emphasis.  Emphasis 
marks  the  raising  of  the  voic?,  cadence  the  falling  of  it ; 
and,  when  it  is  managed  with  propriety  and  judgment, 
it  is  exceedingly  musical.  But,  besides  a  cadence  of  the 
voice^  there  is  such  a  thing  as  cadence  oi  style  ;  and  tlat 
is,  when  the  sense  being  almost  expresse  i  and  perfectly 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  29 

discerned  by  the  reader,  tlie  remaining  words  (which  are 
only  necessary  to  ccmplete  the  period)  gently  fall  of 
themselves  without  any  emphatical  word  among  them ; 
and,  if  the  author's  language  be  pure  and  elegant,  his 
cadence  of  style  will  naturally  direct  the  cadence  of 
voice.  Cadence,  then,  generally  takes  place  at  the  end 
of  a  sentence,  unless  it  close  with  an  emphatical  word. 
Ever  J  parenthesis  is  to  be  pronounced  in  cadence,  that 
is,  in  a  low  voice,  and  quicker  than  ordinary,  that  it 
may  not  take  off  the  attention  too  much  from  the  sense 
of  the  period  it  interrupts.  But  all  apostrophes  and 
'prosopopoeias  are  to  be  pronounced  in  emphasis. 

A  careful  regard  to  these  things  is  the  first  rule  for 
attaining  a  right  and  proper  method  of  pronunciation. 

If  a  person  would  acquire  a  right  and  just  pronuncia- 
tion in  reading  or  speaking,  he  must  not  only  take  in 
or  comprise  the  full  sense,  but  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
his  author ;  for  he  can  never  convey  the  force  and  full- 
''  ness  of  his  author's  ideas  to  another,  till  he  feel  them 
himself.  No  man  can  read  an  author  he  does  not  per- 
fectly understand ;  at  least,  not  so  as  to  be  perfectly 
comprehended. 

"The  great  rule,"  says  a  distinguished  writer  and 
orator,  "  which  the  masters  of  rhetoric  so  much  press, 
can  never  enough  be  remembered ;  ^  that  to  make  a  man 
speak  well,  and  pronounce  with  a  right  emphasis,  he 
ought  thoroughly  to  understand  all  that  he  says,  be  fully 
persuaded  of  it,  and  bring  himself  to  have  those  affec- 
tions which  he  desires  to  infuse  into  others.'  He  that 
is  inwardly  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  what  he  says,  and 
that  hath  a  concern  about  it  in  his  mind,  will  pronounce 


8C  PEINCIPLES  or  ELOCUTION. 

with  a  natural  vehemence  that  is  far  more  lovely  than 
all  the  strains  that  art  can  lead  him  to.  An  orator 
must  endeavor  to  feel  what  he  says,  and  then  he  will 
speak  so  as  to  maki  others  feel  it." 

The  same  rules  are  to  be  observed  in  reading  poetry 
as  prose:  neither  the  rhyme  nor  the  numbers  should 
take  off  the  attention  from  the  sense  and  spirit  of  the 
author ;  for  it  is  that  only  which  must  direct  the  pro- 
nunciation in  poetry  as  well  as  in  prose.  When  any 
one  reads  verse,  he  must  not  at  all  favor  the  measure  or 
rhyme ;  that  often  obscures  the  sense,  and  spoils  the 
pronunciation ;  for  the  great  end  of  pronunciation  is, 
to  elucidate  and  heighten  the  sense ;  that  is,  to  repre- 
sent it  not  only  in  a  clear  but  a  strong  light.  Whatever 
then  obstructs  this  is  carefully  to  be  avoided,  both  in 
verse  and  prose.  Nay,  this  ought  to  be  more  carefully 
shunned  in  reading  verse  than  prose;  because  the 
author,  by  a  constant  attention  to  his  measures  or 
rhyme,  and  the  exaltation  of  his  language,  is  sometimes 
apt  to  obscure  his  sense ;  which  therefore  requires  the 
more  care  in  the  reader  to  discover  and  distinguish  it 
by  the  pronunciation.  And  if,  when  any  one  reads 
verse  with  proper  pause,  emphasis,  and  cadence,  and  a 
pronunciation  varied  and  governed  by  the  sense,  it  be 
not  harmonious  and  beautiful,  the  fault  is  not  in  the 
reader,  but  the  author.  If  the  verse  be  good,  to  read 
it  thus  will  improve  its  harmony ;  because  it  will  take 
off  that  uniformity  of  sound  and  accent  which  tires  the 
oar,  and  makes  the  numbers  heavy  and  disagreeable. 

In  the  third  place  ;  another  important  rule  is,  Study 
nature.     Bv  this  is  meant. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  81 

1.  That  a  person  should  study  his  own  natural  dispc- 
giiions  and  affections;  and  those  subjects  wliich  are 
more  congenial  to  his  own  feelings,  he  will  easily  pro- 
nounce with  a  beautiful  propriety ;  but,  to  heighten  the 
pronunciation,  the  natural  warmth  of  the  mind  should 
be  permitted  to  have  its  course  under  a  proper  rein  and 
regulation. 

2.  Study  the  natural  dispositions  and  affections  of 
others  ;  for  some  are  more  easily  impressed  and  moved 
one  way,  and  some  another.  An  orator  should  be 
acquainted  with  all  the  avenues  to  the  heart. 

3.  A  person  should  study  the  most  easy  and  natural 
way  of  expressing  himself  both  as  to  the  tone  of  voice  and 
the  mode  of  speech.  This  is  best  learned  by  observations 
on  common  conversation ;  where  all  is  free,  natural,  and 
easy ;  where  we  are  only  intent  on  making  ourselves 
understood,  and  conveying  our  ideas  in  a  strong,  plain, 
and  lively  manner,  by  the  most  natural  language,  pro- 
nunciation, and  action.  The  nearer,  indeed,  our  pro- 
nunciation in  public  agrees  with  the  freedom  and  ease 
of  that  we  use  in  common  discourse,  (provided  we  keep 
up  the  dignity  of  the  subject,  and  preserve  a  propriety 
of  expression,)  the  more  just,  and  natural,  and  agreeable 
it  will  generally  be.  Above  all  things,  then,  stud^ 
nature ;  avoid  affectation ;  never  use  art,  if  you  have 
not  the  art  to  conceal  it ;  for  whatever  does  not  appear 
natural  can  never  be  agreeable,  still  less  persuasive. 

In  the  fourth  place,  it  is  proper  that  a  person  should 
endeavor  to  keep  his  mind  collected  and  composed.  He 
should  constantly  guard  against  that  flutter  and  timidity 
of  spirit  which  is  the  common  infelicity  cif  young  per- 


92  PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

sons,  and  especially  those  who  are  naturally  bashful, 
when  they  first  begin  to  speak  in  public.  This  is  a  very 
great  hindrance  both  to  their  pronunciation  and  inven- 
tion ;  and  at  once  gives  both  themselves  and  theii 
hearers  unnecessary  pain.  It  will  wear  off",  by  constant 
opposition.  The  best  way  to  give  the  mind  a  good 
degree  of  assurance  and  self-command  at  such  a  time,  is, 
for  a  person, 

1.  To  be  entirely  master  of  his  subject ;  with  a  con- 
sciousness that  he  delivers  to  his  audience  nothing  but 
what  is  worth  their  hearing :  this  will  furnish  him  with 
a  proper  share  of  courage. 

2.  He  should  endeavor  to  be  wholly  engaged  in  his 
subject ;  and,  when  the  mind  is  intent  upon  and  warmed 
with  it,  it  will  forget  that  awful  deference  it  before  paid 
to  the  audience,  which  was  so  apt  to  disconcert  it. 

3.  If  the  sight  of  his  hearers,  or  any  of  them,  dis« 
compose  him,  he  should  keep  his  eyes  from  beholding 
them. 

Fifthly^  it  is  proper  to  observe,  that  a  person  should 
keep  up  a  life,  spirit,  and  energy,  in  the  expression ; 
and  let  the  voice  naturally  vary  according  to  the  varia- 
tion of  the  style  and  subject.  Whatever  be  the  subject, 
it  will  never  be  pleasing,  if  the  style  be  low  and  flat ; 
nor,  if  the  pronunciation  be  so,  will  the  beauty  of  the 
style  be  discovered.  Cicero  observes,  there  must  be  a 
glow  in  our  style,  if  we  would  warm  our  readers.  The 
transition  of  the  voice  must  always  correspond  with  that 
of  the  subject,  and  the  passions  it  was  intended  to 
excite. 

Sixthly^  in  order  to  attam  a  just  and  graceful  pr<v 


PHINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  S3 

nunciation,  it  is  proper  tliat  a  person  should  accustom 
himself  frequently  to  hear  those  who  excel  in  it,  whether 
at  the  bar  or  in  the  pulpit ;  where  he  will  perceive  all 
the  forementioned  rules  exemplified,  and  be  able  to 
account  for  all  those  graces  and  beauties  of  pronuncia- 
tion which  always  gratified  him,  though  he  were  unable 
to  tell  why.  Indeed,  the  best  mode  of  acquiring  the 
art  of  pronunciation,  like  all  others,  is  rather  by  imita- 
tion than  by  rule ;  but  to  be  first  acquainted  with  the 
rules  of  it,  will  render  the  imitation  more  easy.  In 
fact,  beyond  all  that  has  been  said,  or  can  be  described, 
he  will  observe  a  certain  agreeableness  of  manner  in 
some  speakers,  that  is  natural  to  them,  not  to  be  reduced 
to  any  rule,  and  to  be  learned  by  imitation  only ;  nor 
even  by  that,  unless  it  be  in  some  degree  natural  to 
himself  as  the  hearer. 

Seventhly,  a  person  should  frequently  exercise  him- 
self in  reading  aloud,  according  to  the  foregoing  rules. 
It  is  practice  only  that  can  give  him  the  faculty  of  an 
elegant  pronunciation.  This,  like  other  habits,  is  only 
to  be  acquired  by  acts  often  repeated. 

Orators,  indeed,  as  well  as  poets,  must  be  born  so,  or 
they  will  never  excel  in  their  respective  arts :  but  that 
part  of  oratory  which  consists  in  a  decent  and  graceful 
pronunciation  (provided  there  be  no  defect  in  the  organs 
of  speech)  may  be  attained  by  rule,  by  imitation,  and 
by  practice ;  and,  when  attained,  will  give  a  beauty  to 
a  person's  speech,  a  force  to  his  thoughts,  and  a  plea- 
sure to  his  auditors,  which  cannot  be  expressed;  and 
which  all  will  admire,  but  none  can  imitate,  unless  they 
be  first  prepared  for  it  by  nature  and  by  art.  In  short.^ 
.3 


84  PRINCIPLES  or  ELOCUTION. 

the  groat  a  Ivantage  of  a  just  pronunciation  is,  that  it 
will  please  all,  whether  they  have  no  taste,  a  bad  taste, 
or  a  good  one. 

THE  IXFLECTIONS  OF  THE  VOICE. 

Besides  the  pauses,  which  indicate  a  greater  or  less  aiparation  of 
the  parts  of  a  sentence  anvi  a  conclusion  of  the  whole,  there  are  cer- 
tain inflections  of  voice,  accompanying  these  pauses,  which  are  as 
necessary  to  the  sense  of  the  sentence  as  the  pauses  themselves  ;  for, 
however  exactly  we  may  pause  between  those  parts  which  are  separ- 
able, if  we  do  not  pause  with  such  an  inflection  of  the  voice  as  is 
puited  to  the  sense,  the  compcsition  we  read  will  not  only  want  its 
true  meaning,  but  will  have  a  meaning  very  different  from  that  in- 
tended by  the  writer. 

Whether  words  are  pronounced  in  a  high  or  low,  in  a  loud  or  soft 
tone  ;  whether  they  are  pronounced  swiftly  or  slowly,  forcibly  or 
feebly,  with  the  tone  of  passion  or  without  it ;  they  must  necessarily 
be  pronounced  either  sliding  upward  or  downward,  or  else  go  into  a 
monotone  or  song. 

By  the  rising  or  falling  inflection,  is  not  meant  the  pitch  of  the  voice 
m  which  ihe  whole  word  is  pronounced,  or  that  loudness  or  softness 
which  may  accompany  any  pitch  ;  but  that  upward  or  downward  slide 
which  the  voice  makes  when  the  pronunciation  of  a  word  is  finisliing, 
and  which  may,  therefore,  not  improperly,  be  called  the  rising  and 
falling  inflection. 

We  must  carefully  guard  against  mistaking  the  low  tone  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  rising  inflection  for  the  falling  reflection,  and  the  high 
tone  at  the  beginning  of  the  falling  inflection  for  the  rising  inflection 
as  they  are  not  denominated  rising  or  falling  from  the  high  or  low 
tone  in  which  they  are  pronounced,  but  from  the  upward  or  down- 
ward slide  in  which  they  terminate,  whethv"  pronounced  in  a  high  oi 
low  key. 

Rule  I. —  The  falling  mflection  ta^fi-s  place  at  a  'period 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  That  man  is  little  to  be  erJed  whose  patriotism 


PRINCIPLES   OF    ELOCUTION.  Z^ 

would  not  gain  force  upon  the  plain  of  Marathon,  oi 
whose  piety  would  not  grow  warmer  among  the  rums  it 
Iona\ 

2.  The  pleasures  of  the  imagination,  the  pleasure 
arising  from  science,  from  the  fine  arts,  and  from  the 
principle  of  curiosity,  are  peculiar  to  the  human'  spe- 
cies. 

When  a  sentence  concludes  an  antithesis,  the  first  branch  of  which, 
oeing  emphatic,  requires  the  falling-  inflection  ;  the  second  branch  re 
quires  the  weak  emphasis,  and  rising  inflection. 

Note. — When  there  is  a  succession  of  periods  or  loose  members  iu 
a  sentence,  though  they  may  all  have  the  falling  inflection,  yet  every 
one  of  them  ought  to  be  pronounced  in  a  somewhat  diflerent  pitch 
of  the  voice  from  the  other. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  If  we  have  no  regard  for  our  own"^  character,  we  ought  to  have 
some  regard  for  the  character  of  others^. 

2.  If  content  cannot  remove'^  the  disquietudes  of  mankind,  it  will  at 
least  alleviate^  them. 

Rule  II. — Negative  sentences,  or  members  of  sentences^ 
must  end  with  the  rising  inflection, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  region  beyond  the  grave  is  not  a  solitary' 
land.  There  your  fathers  are,  and  thither  every  other 
friend  shall  follow  you  in  due  season. 

2.  True  charity  is  not  a  meteor,  which  occasionally 
glares;  but  a  luminary,  which,  in  its  orderly  and  regular 
course,  dispenses  a  benignant  influence. 


m  PFlINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 

Rule  III. — The  penultimate  member'^  of  a  sentence  re- 
quires the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  We  were  now  treading  that  illustrious  island  which 
was  once  the  luminary  of  the  Caledonian  regions,  whence 
savage  clans  and  roving  barbarians  derived  the  benefits 
of  knowledge',  and  the  blessings  of  religion. 

2.  Mahomet  was  a  native  of  Mecca,  a  city  of  that 
division  of  Arabia,  which,  for  the  luxury  of  its  soil  and 
happy  temperature  of  its  climate,  has  ever  been  esteemed 
the  loveliest  and  sweetest'  region  in  the  world,  and  dis- 
tinguished by  the  epithet  of  happy. 

Rule  IV. — Every  direct  period,  having  its  two  principal 
constructive  parts  connected  by  corresponding  conjunc- 
tions or  adverbs,  requires  the  long  pause,  with  the  rising 
inflection  at  the  end  of  the  first  part. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  If,  when  we  behold  a  well-made  and  well-regulated 
watch,  we  infer  the  operations  of  a  skillful  artificer'; 
then  none  but  a  "fool"  indeed  can  contemplate  the 
universe,  all  whose  parts  are  so  admirably  formed,  and 
so  harmoniously  adjusted,  and  yet  say,  "There  is  n« 
God." 

2.  "Whenever  you  see  a  people  making  progress  in 
vice ;  whenever  you  see  them  discovering  a  growing  dis- 
regard to  the  divine  law';  there  you  see  proportional 
advances  made  to  ruin  and  misery. 

Note. — When  the  emphatical  word  in  the  conditional  part  of  the 
sentence  is  in  direct  opposition  to  another  wore?  in  the  conclusion, 

f  Penultimate  signifies  the  last  but  one. 


PRINCIPLES    01    ELOCUTION.  8/ 

and  a  concession  is  iniplfed  in  the  former,  in  order  to  strengthen  the 
arg-iment  in  the  latter,  the  first  member  has  the  falling,  and  the  last 
the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  If  we  have  no  regard  for  religion  in  youth^,  we  ought  to  have 
Bome  regard  for  it  in  age^. 

2.  If  we  have  no  regard  for  our  own*'  character,  we  ought  to  have 
Bome  regard  for  the  character  of  others''. 

If  these  sentences  had  been  formed  so  as  to  make  the  latter  member 
a  mere  inference  from,  or  consequence  of,  the  former,  the  general  rule 
would  have  taken  place  :  thus — 

1,  If  we  have  no  regard  for  religion  in  youth'',  we  have  seldom  any 
regard  for  it  in  age^. 

2.  If  we  have  no  regard  for  our  own''  character,  it  can  scarcely  be 
expected  that  we  could  have  any  regard  for  the  character  of  others^. 

liTJLE  V. — Direct  periods,  commencing  with  participles 
of  the  present  and  past  tense,  consist  of  two  parts ; 
between  which  must  he  inserted  the  long  pause  and 
rising  inflection, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Having  existed  from  all  eternity',  God,  through 
all  eternity,  must  continue  to  exist. 

2.  Placed  by  Providence  on  the  palaestra  of  life',  every 
human  being  is  a  wrestler,  and  happiness  is  that  prize 
tor  which  he  is  bound  to  contend. 

Nott. — When  the  last  wrvrd  of  the  first  part  of  these  sentences  re- 
quires the  strong  emphasis,  the  falling  inflection  must  be  used  iusteaa 
cf  the  rising. 

EXAMPLE. 

Hannibal  being  frequently  destitute  of  money  and  provisions,  wiit 
no  recruits  of  strength  in  case  of  ill  fortune,  and  no  enconragenuMit. 
even  when  successfuK ;  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  his  affairs 
began  at  length  to  decline. 


hb  PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

Rl]*fc   VI. — Those  parts  of  a  sentence  which  depend  <yi 
adjectives  require  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  l"^£stitute  of  the  favor  of  God',  you  are  in  no  better 
situation,  with  all  your  supposed  abilities,  than  orphans 
left  to  wander  in  a  trackless  desert. 

2.  Full  of  spirit,  and  high  in  hope',  we  set  out  on  the 
journey  of  life. 

Rule  Nil.  -Every  inverted  period*  requires  the  rising 
inflection  and  long  'pause  between  its  two  principal  ccn- 
structive  parts. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Persoiis  of  good  taste  expect  to  be  pleased',  at  the 
«ame  time  they  are  informed. 

2.  I  can  desire  to  perceive  those  things  that  God  has 
prepared  for  those  that  love'  him,  though  they  be  such 
as  eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  heard,  nor  hath  it  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive. 

Seotences  constructed  like  the  following  also  fall  under  this  rule. 

3  Poor  were  the  expectations  of  the  studious,  tho 
modest,  and  the  good',  if  the  reward  of  their  labors 
were  only  to  be  expected  from  man. 

4.  Virtue  were  a  kind  of  misery',  if  fame  only  werf- 
all  the  garland  that  crowned  her. 

♦  A  period  is  said  to  be  inverted,  when  the  first  part  forms  perfect 
sense  by  itself,  but  Is  modified  or  determined  in  its  signification  bj 
tbe  latter. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  8? 

Rule  VIII. — Tlie  member  that  forms  perfect  sense  must 
he  separated  from  those  tliat  follow  by  a  long  pause  ana 
the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Through  faith  we  understand  thai  the  worlds  were 
iramed  by  the  word  of  God';  so  that  things  which  are 
Been  were  not  made  of  things  that  do  appear. 

2.  By  faith  Abraham,  when  he  was  called  to  go  out 
into  a  place  which  he  should  after  receive  for  an  inheri- 
tance, obeyed';  and  he  went  out,  not  knowing  whither 
he  went. 

liote. — When  a  sentence  consists  of  several  loose  members  which 
neither  modify  nor  are  modified  by  one  another,  they  may  be  consi- 
dered as  a  compound  series,  and  pronounced  accordingly. 

Rule  IX. — The  first  member  of  an  antithesis  must  end 
with  the  long  pause  of  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  most  frightful  disorders  arose  from  the  state 
of  feudal  anarchy.  Force  decided  all  things.  Europe 
was  one  great  field  of  battle,  where  the  weak  struggled 
for  freedom',  and  the  strong  for  dominion.  The  king 
was  without  power',  and  the  nobles  without  principle. 
They  were  tyrants  at  home',  and  robbers  abroad. 
Nothing  remained  to  be  a  check  upon  ferocity  and 
violence. 

2.  Between  fame  and  true  honor  a  distinction  is  to  be 
made.  The  former  is  a  blind  and  noisy'  applause  ;  the 
latter  a  more  silent  and  internal  homage.  Fame  floats 
on  the  breath  of  the  multitude':  honor  rests  on  the 
judgment    of  tne    thinking.     Fame    may  give    praise, 


40  PRINCIPLilS    or   ELOCUTION 

while  it  withholds  esteem':  true  honor  implieft  «A.U,ijm 
mingled  with  respect.     The  one  regards  particular  dis 
tinguished'  talents;   the  other  looks  up  to  the  whole 
character. 

Rule  X. — At  the  end  of  a  concession  the  rising  inflection 
takes  place, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Reason,  eloquence,  and  every  art  which  ever  has 
been  studied  among  mankind,  may  be  abused,  and  may 
prove  dangerous  in  the  hands  of  bad'  men ;  but  it  were 
perfectly  childish  to  contend,  that,  upon  this  account, 
they  ought  to  be  abolished. 

2.  One  may  be  a  speaker,  both  of  much  reputation 
and  much  influence  in  the  calm  argumentative'  manner. 
To  attain  the  pathetic,  and  the  sublime  of  oratory,  re- 
quires those  strong  sensibilities  of  mind,  and  that  high 
power  of  expression,  which  are  given  to  few. 

Rule  XI. — Questions  asked  by  pronouns  or  adverbs  end 
with  the  falling  inflection. 

examples. 
1.  "Who  continually  supports  and  governs  this  stupen- 
dous system'?  Who  preserves  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  worlds  in  perpetual  harmony'?  Who  enablca 
them  always  to  observe  such  times,  and  obey  such  laws, 
as  are  most  exquisitely  adapted  for  the  perfection  of  the 
wondrous  whole'?  They  cannot  preserve  and  direct 
themselves  ;  for  they  were  created,  and  must,  therefoj  e, 
be    dependent.     How,  then,  can  they  be  so  actual  'd 


PKINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  41 

and  directed  but  by  the  unceasing  energy  of  the  greai 

Supreme^  ? 

2.  Ah  !  why  will  kings  forget  that  they  are  men, 
And  men  that  they  are  brethren^?     Why  delight 
In  human^  sacrifice  ?     Why  burst  the  ties 
Of  nature,  that  should  knit  their  souls  together 
In  one  soft  bond  of  amity  and  love'? 

Note  1. — Interrogative  sentences,  consisting  of  members  in  a  series 
necessarily  depending  on  each  other  for  sense,  must  be  pronounced 
according  lo  the  rule  which  relates  to  the  series  of  which  they  are 
composed. 

EXAMPLES. 

What  can  be  more  important  and  interesting  than  an  inquiry  into 
the  existence^,  attributes'',  providence^,  and  moral  government''  of 
God? 

Rule  XII. — Questions  asked  hy  verbs  require  the  rising 
inflection.'^ 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Can  the  soldier,  when  he  girdeth  on  his  armor, 
boast  like  him  that  putteth  it  off'  ?  Can  the  merchant 
predict  that  the  speculation,  on  which  he  has  entered, 
will  be  infallibly  crowned  with  success'  ?  Can  even  the 
husbandman,  who  has  the  promise  of  God  that  seed-time 
and  harvest  shall  not  fail,  look  forward  with  assured 
confidence  to  the  expected  increase  of  his  fields'?  In 
these,  and  in  all  similar  cases,  our  resolution  to  act  can 
be  founded  on  probability  alone. 

2.  Avarus  has  long  been  ardently  endeavoring  to  fill 
his  chest :  and  lo  !  it  is  now  full.    Is  he  happy'  ?    Does 

*  When  the  question  is  very  long,  however,  or  concludes  a  pari^ 
graph,  the  falling  instead  of  the  rising  inflection  takes  place. 


42  PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 

fle  use'  it  ?     Does  he  gratefully  think  of  the  Giver'  of 

all   good   things?     Does   he   distribute  to  the  poor'? 
Alas !  these  interests  have  no  place  in  his  breast. 

Rule  XIII. —  When  interrogative  sentences  connected  by 
the  disjunctive,  or,  expressed  or  understood,  succeed 
each  other,  the  first  end  with  the  rising  and  the  rest  with 
the  falling  inflection."^ 

EXAMPLES 

1.  Does  God,  after  having  made  his  creatures,  take 
no  further'  care  of  them  ?  Has  he  left  them  to  blind 
fate  or  undirected  chance'  ?  Has  he  forsaken  the  works 
of  his  own  hands'?  Or  does  he  always  graciously  pre- 
serve, and  keep,  and  guide^  them  ? 

2.  Should  these  credulous  infidels  after  all  be  in  the 
right,  and  this  pretended  revelation  be  all  a  fable,  from 
believing  it  what  harm^  could  ensue  ?  Would  it  render 
princes  more  tyrannical,  or  subjects  more  ungovernable'  ? 
the  rich  more  insolent,  or  the  poor  more  disorderly'? 
Would  it  make  worse  parents,  or  children';  husbands, 
or  wives' ;  masters,  or  servants' ;  friends,  or  neighbors'  ? 
or  would  it  not  make  men  more  virtuous,  and,  conse- 
quently, more  happy^  in  every  situation  ? 

Note  2. — An  interrogative  sentence,  consisting  of  a  variety  of  mem- 
bers depending  on  each  other  for  sense,  may  have  the  inflection  com- 
mon to  other  sentences,  provided  the  last  member  has  that  inflection 
which  distinguishes  the  species  of  interrogation  to  which  it  belongs. 

EXAMPLE. 

Can  we  believe  a  thinking  being,  that  is  in  a  perpetual  progress  of 
injprovement'',  and  travelling  on  from  perfection  to  perfection,  after 

*  When  or  is  used  conjunctively,  the  inflections  are  not  regulated 
bv  it. 


PRINaPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  4d 

tavSng  just  looked  abroad  into  the  works  of  its  Creator^,  and  made  a 
fow  discoveries  of  his  infiuite  goodness,  wisdom,  and  power,  must  perish 
ot  her  first  setting  out"^,  and  in  the  very  beginning''  of  her  inquiries? 
Note  3. — Interrogative  sentences,  consisting  of  members  in  a  series, 
which  form  perfect  sense  as  they  proceed,  must  have  every  member 
terminate  with  that  inflection  which  distinguishes  the  species  of  inter- 
rogation of  which  they  consist. 

EXAMPLES. 

1 .  Hath  death  torn  from  your  embrace  the  friend  whom  you  ten- 
derly loved'' — him  to  whom  you  were  wont  to  unbosom  the  secrets 
of  your  souK — him  who  was  your  counsellor  in  perplexity,  the  sweet- 
ener of  all  your  joys,  and  the  assuager  of  all  your  sorrows^?  You 
think  you  do  well  to  mourn  ;  and  the  tears  with  which  you  water  his 
grave,  seem  to  be  a  tribute  due  to  his  virtues.  But  waste  not  your 
affection  in  fruitless  lamentation. 

2.  Who  are  the  persons  that  are  most  apt  to  fall  into  peevishness 
and  dejection'^ — that  are  continually  complaining  of  the  world,  and 
see  nothing  but  wretchedness^  around  them  ?  Are  they  those  whom 
want  compels  to  toil  for  their  daily  bread'' — who  have  no  treasure 
but  the  labor  of  their  hands^— who  rise  with  the  rising  sun  to  expose 
themselves  to  all  the  rigors  of  the  seasons,  unsheltered  from  the  win- 
ter's cold,  and  unshaded  from  the  summer's  heat^?  No.  The  labors 
3f  such  are  the  very  blessings  of  their  condition. 

Note  4. — When  questions,  asked  by  verbs,  are  followed  by  answere, 
the  rising  inflection,  in  a  high  tone  of  voice,  takes  place  at  the  end  of 
the  question,  and,  after  a  long  pause,  the  answer  must  be  pronounced 
in  a  lower  tone. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Are  you  desirous  that  your  talents  and  abilities  may  procure 
you  respect''?  Display  them  not  ostentatiously  to  public  view.  Would 
you  escape  the  envy  which  your  riches''  might  excite  ?  Let  them  not 
minister  to  pride,  but  adorn  them  with  humility. 

2.  There  is  not  an  evil  incident  to  human  nature  for  which  the 
gospel  doth  not  provide  a  remedy.  Are  you  ignorant  of  many  things 
which  it  highly  concerns  you  to  know''?  The  gospel  offers  you  iiv 
Btruction.     Hav?  you  deviated  from  the  path  of  duty'?    The  go?peI 


44  PRINCIPLES   OF    ELOCUTION. 

oSTeiv  you  forgiveness.  Do  temptation?''  surround  yo«  ?  The  gospti 
offers  you  the  aid  of  Heaven.  Are  you  exposed  to  misery'?  It  cod« 
soles  you.     Are  you  subject  to  death''?    It  offers  yoti  immortality. 

^luLE  XIV. — The  inflections  at  the  note  of  exclamation 
are  the  same  as  at  any  other  point,  in  sentences  simi- 
larly constructed. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  Almighty  sustains  and  conducts  the  universe. 
It  was  he  who  separated  the  jarring  elementsM  It  was 
he  who  hung  up  the  worlds  in  empty  space^ !  It  was  he 
who  preserves  them  in  their  circles,  and  impels  them  iu 
their  course'! 

2.  How  pure,  how  dignified  should  they  be,  whose 
origin  is  celestial' !  How  pure,  how  dignified  should 
they  be,  who  are  taught  to  look  higher  than  earth ;  to 
expect  to  enjoy  the  divinest  pleasures  for  evermore,  and 
to  "  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their 
Father!" 

Rule  XV. —  When  the  exclamation,  in  form  of  a  ques- 
tion, is  the  echo  of  another  question  of  the  same  kind, 
or  when  it  proceeds  from  wonder  or   admiration,  it 
always  requires  the  rising  inflection. 
examples. 

1.  Will  you  for  ever,  Athenians,  do  nothing  but  walk 
up  and  down  the  city,  asking  one  another.  What  news'  ? 
What  news' !  Is  there  anything  more  new  than  to  see 
a  man  of  Macedonia  become  master  of  the  Athenians, 
and  give  laws  to  all  Greece'  ? 

2.  What' !  might  Rome  then  have  been  taken,  if  those 
men  who  were  at  your  gates  had  not  wanted  courage' 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  16 

for  the  attempt? — Rome  taken  when  I'  was  consul!— 
Of  honors  I  had  sufficient — of  life  enough — more  than 
enough. 

Rule  XYI. — A  parenthesis  must  he  pronounced  in  a  lowet 
tone  of  voice  than  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  and  conclude 
with  the  same  pause  and  iiijiection  which  terminate  the 
member  that  immediately  precedes  it,* 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Though  fame,  who  is  always  the  herald  of  the  great, 
has  seldom  deigned  to  transmit  the  exploits  of  the  lower 
ranks  to  posterity',  (for  it  is  commonly  the  fate  of  those 
whom  fortune  has  placed  in  the  vale  of  obscurity  to  have 
their  noble  actions  buried  in  oblivion';)  yet,  in  their 
rerses,  the  minstrels  have  preserved  many  instances  of 
domestic  woe  and  felicity. 

2.  Uprightness  is  a  habit,  and,  like  all  other  habits, 
gains  strength  by  time  and  exercise.  If,  then,  we  ex- 
ercise' upright  principles,  (and  we  cannot  have  them 
unless  we  exercise'  them,)  they  must  be  perpetually  on 
the  increase. 

Note  1. — The  end  of  a  parenthesis  must  have  the  falling  inflection 
when  it  terminates  with  an  emphatical  word. 

EXAMPLE. 

Had  I,  when  speaking  in  the  assembly,  been  absolute  and  indepen- 
dent master  of  affairs,  then  your  other  speakers  might  call  me  to  ac- 
count. But  if  ye  were  ever  present,  if  ye  were  all  in  general  invitee 
to  propose  your  sentiments,  if  ye  were  all  agreed  that  the  measures 

*  A  parenthesis  must  also  be  pronounced  a  degree  quicker  than  the 
rest  of  the  sentence  ;  a  pause,  too,  must  be  made  both  before  and 
after  it,  proportioned  in  length  to  the  more  intimate  or  remote  con- 
r.ection,  which  it  has  with  the  rest  of  the  sentence. 


46  PRINCIPLES    OF   ELJCUTION. 

then  suggested  were  really  the  best ;  if  you,  .^chines,  in  particular, 
were  thus  persuaded,  ^and  it  was  no  partial  affection  for  me,  tba< 
prompted  you  to  give  me  up  the  hopes,  the  applause,  the  honors,  which, 
attended  that  course  I  then  advised,  but  the  superior  force  of  truth 
and  your  utter  inability  to  point  out  any  more  eligible^  course ;)  if 
this  was  the  case,  I  say,  is  it  not  highly  cruel  aLd  unjust  to  arraign 
those  measures  now,  when  you  could  not  then  propose  any  better  ? 

Note  2. — When  the  parenthesis  is  long,  it  may  be  pronounced  with 
a  degree  of  monotone  or  sameness  of  voice,  in  order  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  rest  of  the  sentence. 

EXAMPLE. 

Since,  then,  every  sort  of  good  which  is  immediately  of  importance 
to  happiness,  must  be  perceived  by  some  immediate  power  or  sense, 
antecedent  to  any  opinions  or  reasoning'',  (for  it  is  the  business  of 
reason  to  compare  the  several  sorts  of  good  perceived  by  the  several 
senses,  and  to  find  out  the  proper  means  for  obtaining''  them,)  we 
must  therefore  carefully  inquire  into  the  several  sublimer  perceptive 
powers  or  senses  :  since  it  is  by  them  we  best  discover  what  state  or 
course  of  life  best  answers  the  intention  of  God  and  nature,  and 
wherein  true  happiness  consists. 

Note  3. — The  small  intervening  members,  said  1,  says  he,  continued 
they,  &c.,  follow  the  inflection  and  tone  of  the  member  which  precedes 
them,  in  a  higher  and  feebler  tone  of  voice. 

EXAMPLE. 

Thus,  then,  said  he,  since  you  are  so  urgent,  it  is  thus  that  1  con 
ceive  it.  The  sovereign  good  is  that,  the  possession  of  which  render* 
OS  happy.  And  now,  said  I,  do  we  possess  it  ?  Is  it  sensual  or  in 
tellectual  ?    There,  you  are  entering,  said  he,  upon  the  detail. 

HARMONIC  INFLECTION. 

Besides  that  variety  which  necessarily  arises  from  annexing  certair 
inflections  to  sentences  of  a  particular  import  or  structure,  there  is 
still  another  source  of  variety,  in  those  parts  of  a  sentence  where  the 
sense  is  not  at  all  concerned,  and  where  the  variety  is  merely  to  please 
the  ear.  There  are  many  members  of  sentences  which  may  be  differ- 
ently pro  )unc<Hl  without  greatly  affectir)g  their  variety  and  harmony 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  4t 

It  18  chiefly  toward  the  end  of  a  seutence  that  the  htrraouic  infleciioa 
is  necessary  iu  order  to  form  au  agreeable  cadence. 

Rule  I. —  When  a  series  of  similar  sentences,  ormembers 
of  sentences,  fo'^m  a  bra7ich  of  a  subject  or  paragrapli», 
the  last  sentence  or  member  must  fall  gradually  into  a 
lower  tone,  and  adopt  the  harmonic  inflection,  on  suvh 
words  ad  form  the  most  agreeable  cadence. 

EXAMPLE. 

Since  I  have  mentioned  this  unaccountable  zeal  which 
appears  in  atheists  and  infidels,  I  must  farther  observe, 
that  they  are  likewise  in  a  most  particular  manner  pos- 
sessed with  the  spirit  of  bigotry.  They  are  wedded'  to 
opinions^  full  of  contradiction^  and  impossibility',  and 
at  the  same'  time^  look  upon  the  smallest'  difficulty^  in  an 
article^  of  faith'  as  a  sufficient  reason  for  rejecting  it. 

Rule  II. — When  the  last  member  of  a  sentence  ends  with 
four  accented  words,  the  falling  inflection  takes  place  on 
the  first  and  Ic^t,  and  the  rising  on  the  second  and 
third, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  The  immortality  of  the  soul  is  the  basis  of  morality, 
and  the  source  of  all  the  pleasing'  hopes^  and  secret 
joys',  that  can  arise^  in  the  heart'  of  a  reasonable' 
creature'. 

2.  A  brave'  man  struggling'  in  the  stones'  of  fate', 
And  greatly'  falling'  with  a  falling'  state'. 


48  PRINCIPLES    OF   ELOCUTION. 

liULF.  III. —  W7ie7i  there  are  three  accented  words  at  th^ 
end  of  the  last  member,  the  first  has  either  the  rising  or 
falling^  the  second  the  rising,  and  the  last  the  falling 
inflection, 

EXAMPLE. 

Cicero  concludes  his  celebrated  books,  De  Oratore, 
with  some  precepts  for  pronunciation  and  action,  without 
which  part  he  affirms,  that  the  best  orator  in  the  world 
can  never  succeed,  and  an  indifferent  one,  who  is  master 
jf  this,  shall  gain  much^  greater'  applause\ 

ECHO 

Is  here  used  to  express  that  repetition  of  a  word  or  thought,  whicti 
inniediately  arises  from  a  word  or  thought  that  preceded  it. 

ilULE. — The  echoing  word  jv.ght  always  to  he  pronounced 
with  the  rising  inflection  in  a  high  tone  of  voice,  and  a 
long  paiise  after  it,  when  it  implies  any  degree  of 
passion.* 

EXAMPLE. 

1.  Augnstin  became  a  Christian !  Augustin'!  who 
Jiad  mastered  all  the  learning  of  his  age,  and  whose 
fiubtle  mind  had  anticipated  the  objections  of  future 
unbelievers. 

Bossuet  was  a  Christian  I  Bossuet'I  whose  soaring 
L»^enius  and  wonderful  intellectual  vision  are  acknowl- 
edged and  honored  by  all. 

*  The  echoing  word  is  printed  in  italics  and  roarkcd  with  thi 
tisine  in  flection 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  I» 

THE  MONOTONE, 
In  certain  Rolemn  and  sublime  passages  has  a  wonderful  force  ano 
dignity ;  and  by  the  uncommonness  of  its  use,  it  even  adds  greatly  to 
that  vai-iety  with  which  the  ear  is  so  much  delighted.* 
EXAMPLE. 

1.  lligh  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 
Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  or  of  Inde, 
Or  where  the  gorgeous  east,  with  richest  hand. 
Showers,  on  her  kings  barbaric,  pearf  and  gold', 
Satan  exalted  sat. 

CIRCUMFLEXES. 
The  rising  circumflex  begins  with  the  falling  inflection  and  end« 
with  the  rising  upon  the  same  syllable,  and  seems  as  it  were  to  twist 
♦he  voice  upward.    This  turn  of  the  voice  is  marked  in  this  maiw 
oer,  (..) 

EXAMPLE. 

But  it  is  foolish  in  us  to  compare  Drusus  Africanua 
and  ourselves  with  Clodius;  all  our  other  calamities 
were  tolerable ;  but  no  one  can  patiently  bear  the  death 
of  Glodius. 

T\wfaUmg  circumflex  begins  with  the  rising  inflection,  and  encta 
with  the  falling  upon  the  same  syllable,  and  seems  to  twist  the  voice 
dowDward.  This  turn  of  the  voice  may  be  marked  by  the  common 
circumflex  :  thus,  (  ». ) 

EXAMPLE. 

Queen.  Hamlet,  you  have  your  father  much  offended. 
Mamlet.  Madam,  you  have  my  father  much  offended. 

•  This  monotone  may  be  defined  to  be  a  continuation  or  sameness 
of  sound  upon  certain  syllables  of  a  word,  exactly  like  that  produced 
by  repeatedly  striking  a  bell ; — such  a  stroke  may  be  louder  or  softer 
but  continues  exactly  in  the  same  pitch.  To  express  this  tone  upon 
p^per,  a  horizontal  line  may  be  adopted  ;  such  a  one  as  is  generally 
B«eil  to  express  a  long  syllable  in  verse  :  thus  (  - .) 
i 


M  PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCITION. 

Both  these  circumflex  inflections  may  be  exemplified  in  tte  «  ord  to 
ID  a  speech  of  the  Clown  in  Shakspeare's  As  You  Like  It. 

I  knew  when  seven  justices  could  not  take  up  a 
quarrel ;  but  when  the  parties  were  met  themselves,  one 
of  them  thought  but  of  an  If;  as  if  you  said  s5,  then  i 
said  s6.  0  ho !  did  you  sS  ?  So  they  shook  hands  an  I 
were  sworn  brothers. 

CLIMAX, 

OR   A    GRADUAL   INCREASE   OF    SIGNIFICATION, 

Requires  an  increasing  swell  of  the  voice  on  every  suc- 
ceeding particular,  and  a  degree  of  animation  corres- 
ponding with  the  nature  of  the  subject. 

EXAMPLE. 

1.  After  we  have  practised  good  actions  awhile,  they 
become  easy,  and  when  they  are  easy,  we  begin  to  take 
pleasure  in  them ;  and  when  they  please  us,  we  -do  them 
frequently;  and,  by  frequency  of  acts,  a  thing  grows 
into  a  habit;  and  a  confirmed  habit  is  a  second  kind  of 
nature;  and,  so  far  as  anything  is  natural,  so  far  it  is 
necessary,  and  we  can  hardly  do  otherwise;  nay,  we  do 
it  many  times  when  we  do  not  think  of  it. 

ACCENT. 
Rule. — Emphasis  requires   a   transposition  of  accent, 
when  two  words  which  have  v«  sameness  in  part  of  their 
formation,  are  opposed  to  each  other  in  sense. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  What  is  done',  cannot  be  Wdone.* 

*  The  signs  (^and^,)  besides  denoting  the  inflections,  mark  alec 
Uie  accented  syllables. 

Whatever  inflection  be  adopted,  the  accented  syllable  is  alwayi 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  51 

2.  There  is  a  material  difference  between  giv'\n^  and 
/'or  giving. 

3.  Thought  and  language  act'  and  re\ci  upon  each 
other. 

4.  He  who  is  good  before  zV^isible  witnesses,  is  emi- 
nently so  before  the  visihle. 

5.  What  fellowship  hath  n^A^'eousness  with  uri- 
righteousness  ?  ar.d  what  communion  hath  light  »vith 
darkness  ? 

6.  The  riches  of  the  prince  must  ^Vcrease  or  de'- 
crease,  in  proportion  to  the  number  and  riches  of  his 
subjects. 

Note  1. — This  transposition  of  the  accent  extends  itself  to  all  words 
which  have  a  sameness  of  termination,  though  they  may  not  be 
directly  opposite  in  sense. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  In  this  species  of  composition,  ^te'sibility  is  much 
more  essential  than  ^roJ'ability. 

2.  Lucius  Catiline  was  expert  in  all  the  arts  of  sim'- 
ulation  and  JzVsimulation ;  covetous  of  what  belonged 
to  others,  lavish  of  his  own. 

Note  2. — When  the  accent  is  on  the  last  syllable  of  a  word  which 
has  no  emphasis,  it  must  be  pronounced  louder  and  a  degree  lower 
than  the  rest. 

EXAMPLE. 

Sooner  or  later  virtue  must  meet  with  a  rewarcT, 

louder  than  the  rest ;  but  if  the  accent  be  pronounced  with  the  rising 
inflection,  the  accented  syllable  is  higher  than  the  preceding,  and 
lower  than  the  succeeding  syllable;  and  if  the  accent  have  the  falling 
inflection,  the  accented  syllable  is  pronounced  higher  than  any  othe: 
tyllable.  either  preceding  or  succeeding. 


62  PRINCIPLES   OF   ELOCUTION. 

EMPHASIS 

la  tnat  stress  we  lay  on  words  which  are  in  contradi-tinction  tf 
other  words  expressed  or  understood.  And  hence  wiJl  follow  this 
general  rale :  Wherever  there  is  contradisiinction  in  the  sense  of  th4 
tccrds,  there  ought  to  be  emphasis  in  the  pronunciation  of  them. 

All  words  are  pronounced  either  with  emphatic  force,  accented 
force,  or  unaccented  force ;  this  last  kind  of  force  may  be  called  by 
the  name  of  feebleness.  When  the  words  are  in  contradistinction  to 
other  words,  or  to  some  sense  implied,  they  may  be  called  emphatic^ 
where  they  do  not  denote  contradistinction,  and  yet  are  more  impor* 
ant  than  the  particles,  they  may  be  called  accented,  and  the  pai  ticlea 
and  lesser  words  may  be  called  unaccented  or  feeble. 

EXAMPLES, 

1.  Exercise  and  temperance  strengthen  the  constitution 

2.  Exercise  and  temperance  strengthen  even  an  indif- 
ferent constitution. 

The  word  printed  in  Roman  capitals  is  pronounced  with  emphatic 
force ;  those  in  small  Italics  are  pronounced  with  accented  force ;  the 
re8t  with  unaccented  force. 

SINGLE  EMPHASIS.* 
Rule. —  When  a  sentence  is  composed  of  a  positive  and 
negative  part,  the  positive  miist  have  the  falling,  ani 
the  negative  the  rising  inflection.'^ 
examples. 

1.  We  can  do  nothing  against'  the  truth,  but  for  the 
truth. 

2.  None  more  impatiently  suffer'  injuries,  than  they 
who  are  most  forward  in  doing"  them. 

*  When  two  emphatic  words  in  antithesis  with  each  other  are  eithef 
expressed  or  implied,  the  emphasis  is  said  to  be  single. 

f  To  this  rule,  however,  there  are  some  ex:reptions,  not  only  ia 
poetry,  but  also  in  prose. 


PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION.  AS 

3.  You  were  paid  to  fight  against  Alexander,  and  nol 
to  raiU  at  Mm. 

DOUBLE  EMPHASIS.* 
Rule. — The  falling  inflection  takes  place  on  the  first  en^ 
2)hatie  word,  the  rising  on  the  second  and  third,  and  the 
falling  on  the  fourth,  f 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  To  err"  is  human' ;  to  forgive'  divine^. 

2.  Custom  is  the  plague""  of  wise'  men,  and  the  idol' 
of  fools\ 

TREBLE  EMPHASISE 
Rule. — The  rising  inflection  takes  place  on  the  first  and 
third,  and  the  falling  on  the  second  of  the  first  three 
emphatical  words;  the  first  and  third  of  the  other 
three  have  the  falling,  and  the  second  has  the  rising 
inflection. 

examples. 

1.  K  friend'  cannot  be  knowrC  m  prosperity' ;  and  an 
enemy"  cannot  be  hidden'  in  adversity". 

2.  Flowers  of  rhetoric  in  sermons  or  serious  dis- 
courses are  like  the  blue  and  red  flowers  in  corn,  plea- 
sing' to  those""  who  come  only  for  amusement',  but  preju- 
diciat  to  him'  who  would  reap  the  profit. 

*  When  two  words  are  opposed  to  each  other,  aud  contrasted  with 
two  other  words,  the  emphasis  on  these  four  words  may  be  called 
double. 

\  The  pause  after  the  second  emphatic  word  must  be  consiJerablv 
longer  than  that  after  the  first  or  third. 

\  When  three  emphatic  words  are  opposed  to  three  other  emphatic 
words  in  the  same  sentence,  ti«e  emphasis  is  called  treble. 


54  PRINCEPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

TPTE    ANTECEDENT. 
Rule  —Personal  or  adjective  pronouns,  when   anUct' 
demi,  must  be  pronounced  with  an  accentual  force,  t# 
intimate  that  the  relative  is  in  view,  and  in  some  mea  ■ 
sure  to  anticipate  the  pronunciation  of  it, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Jle,  that  pursues  fame  with  just  claims,  trusts  hig 
happiness  to  the  winds ;  but  he,  that  endeavors  after  it 
by  false  merit,  has  to  fear,  not  only  the  violence  of  the 
storm,  but  the  leaks  of  his  vessel. 

2.  The  weakest  reasoners  are  always  the  most  posi- 
tive in  debate ;  and  the  cause  is  obvious ;  for  thcT/  are 
unavoidably  driven  to  maintain  their  pretensions  by 
violence,  who  want  arguments  and  reasons  to  prove  that 
they  are  in  the  right. 

R  *JLE  II. —  WJien  the  relative  only  is  expressed,  the  an- 
tecedent being  understood,  the  accentual  force  thenfalU 
upon  the  relative. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  TF^af 'nothing  earthly  gives  or  can  destroy, 
The  soul's  calm  sunshine,  and  the  heartfelt  joy, 
Is  virtue's  prize. 

2.  WTio  noble  ends  by  noble  means  obtains, 
Or  failing,  smiles  in  exile  or  in  chains. 
Like  good  Aurelius  let  him  reign,  or  bleed 
Like  Socrates,  that  man  is  great  indeed. 

GENERAL  EMPHASIS 
Is  that  emphatic  force,  which,  when  the  composition  is  very  ani 
mated,  ana  approaches  to  a  close,  we  often  lay  upon  several  words  it 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTTQN.  6& 

snccession.  This  emphasis  is  not  so  much  regulated  by  tne  sense  of 
the  author,  as  by  the  taste  and  feelings  of  the  reader,  and  therefore 
does  not  admit  of  any  certain  rule. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  What  men  could  do 

Is  done  already:  heaven  and  earth  will  witness, 
If  Rome^  must  fall\  that  we  are  innocent. 

2.  There  was  a  time,  then,  my  fellow-citizens,  when 
the  Lacedaemonians  were  sovereign  masters  both  by  sea 
and  land;  when  their  troops  and  forts  surrounded  the 
entire  circuit  of  Attica;  when  they  possessed  Euboea, 
Tanagra,  the  whole  Boeotian  district,  Megara,  ^gina, 
Cleone,  and  the  other  islands,  while  this  state  had  not 
one  ship,  not  one*  wall. 

THE  INTERMEDIATE  OR  ELLIPTICAL  MEMBER 
Is  that  part  of  a  sentence  which  is  equally  related  to  both  parts  of 
an  antithesis,  but  which  is  properly  only  once  expressed. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Must  we,  in  your  person,  crown'  the  author  of  the 
public  calamities,  or  must  we  destroy^  him  ? 

2.  A  good  man  will  love  himself  too  well  to  loie*  an 
pstate  by  gaming,  and  his  neighbor  too  well  to  wirC  one. 

RHEI^ORICAL  PAUSES. 

Rule  I. — Pause  after  the  nominative  when  it  consists  of 

more  than  one  wo'*'^.^ 

example. 

1.  The  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away. 

•  The  place  of  the  pause  is  immediately  before  each  of  the  wordi« 
printed  in  italics. 


56  PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

Note. — A  pause  may  be  made  after  a  nominative,  even  when  it 
consists  of  only  one  word,  if  it  be  a  word  of  importance,  or  if  wa 
wish  it  to  be  particularly  observed. 

EXAMPLKS. 

1.  Adversity  is  the  school  of  piety. 

2.  The  fopl  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God. 

Rule  II. —  When  anymemher  comes  between  tJte  naming- 
tive  case  and  the  verhy  it  must  be  separated  from  both 
of  them  by  a  short  pause. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Trials  in  this  state  of  being  are  the  lot  of  man. 

2.  Such  is  the  constitution  of  men,  that  virtue  however 
it  may  be  neglected,  for  a  time  mil  ultimately  be  acknow- 
ledged and  respected. 

Rule  III. —  When  any  member  comes  between  the  verb 
and  the  objective  or  accusative  case,  it  must  be  separated 
from  both  of  them  by  a  short  pause, 

EXAMPLE. 

I  knew  a  person  who  possessed  the  faculty  of  distin- 
guishing flavors  in  so  great  a  perfection,  that,  after  having 
tasted  ten  different  kinds  of  tea,  he  would  distinguish 
without  seeing  the  color  of  it  the  particular  sort  which 
was  offered  him. 

Rule  IV. —  When  two  verbs  come  together,  and  the  latter 
is  in  the  infinitive  mood,  if  any  words  come  between^ 
they  must  be  separated  from  the  latter  verb  by  a  pause. 

EXAMPLE. 

Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 
The  stings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  ; 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  *  0« 

Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 
And  by  opposing  end  them  ? 
yote. — When  the  verb  to  be  is  followed  by  a  verb  in  the  infinitive 
loood,  which  may  serve  as  a  nominative  case  to  it,  and  the  phrases 
before  and  after  the  verb  may  be  transposed,  then  the  pause  falls  be- 
tween the  verbs. 

EXAMPLK. 

riic  greatest  misery  is  to  be  condemned  by  our  own  hearts. 

Rule  Y.~-'When  several  substantives  become  the  nomi- 
natives to  the  same  verb,  a  pause  must  be  made  between 
the  last  substantive  and  the  verb,  as  well  as  after  each 
of  the  other  substantives. 

EXAMPLE. 

Riches,  pleasure,  and  health  become  evils  to  those  who 
do  not  know  how  to  use  them. 

Rule  VI. — If  there  are  several  adjectives  belonging  to 
one  substantive,  or  several  substantives  belonging  to  one 
adjective,  every  adjective  coming  after  its  substantive, 
and  every  adjective  coming  before  the  substantive  except 
the  last,  must  be  separated  by  a  short  pause, 

EXAMPLE. 

1.     It  was  a  calculation  accurate  to  the  last  degree. 
j!^ote. — This  rule  applies  also  to  sentences  in  which  several  adverbi 
belong  to  one  verb,  or  several  verbs  to  one  adverb. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  To  love  wisely,  rationally,  and  prudently,  is,  in  the  opinion  of 
lovers,  not  to  love  at  all. 

2.  Wisely,  rationally,  and  prudently  to  love,  is,  in  the  opinion  of 
•overs,  not  to  love  at  all. 


.^8  PRiNcrrLEs  of  flo^ution. 

Rule  A^II. —  Whatever  words  are  in  the  ablative  absoluze^ 
miist  be  Separated  from  the  rest  by  a  short  joause  both 
before  and  after  them. 

EXAMPLE. 

If  a  man  burrow  aught  of  his  neighbor,  and  it  be 
hurt  or  die,  the  owner  thereof  not  being  with  it,  he  shall 
surely  make  it  good. 

Rule  VIII. — Nouns  in  opposition,  or  words  in  the  same 
case^where  the  latter  are  only  explanatory  of  the  former^ 
have  a  short  pause  between  them,  either  if  both  of  these 
nouns  consist  of  many  terms,  or  the  latter  only. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Hope,  the  balm  of  life,  soothes  us  under  every  mis- 
fortune. 

2.  Solomon,  the  son  of  David,  and  the  builder  of  the 
temple  of  Jerusalem,  was  the  richest  monarch  that  reigned 
over  the  Jewish  people. 

Rule  IX. —  Wlien  two  substantives  come  together,  and 
the  latter,  which  is  in  the  genitive  case,  consists  of  sev- 
eral words  closely  united  with  each  other,  a  pause  is 
admissible  between  the  two  principal  substantives. 

example. 
I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  singular  in  my  opinion, 
but,  for  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  look  upon  a  trco 
in  all  its  luxuriancy,  and  di^^oion  of  boughs  and 
branches,  than  when  it  is  cut  and  trimmed  into  a  matho- 
inaticai  figure. 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION.  b*J 

Rule  X. — Who,  which,  when  in  the  nominative  ease,  and 
the  pronoun  that,  when  usedfo?'  who  or  which,  require 
a  short  pause  before  them. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Death  is  the  season  which  brings  our  affections  to 
the  test. 

2.  Nothing  is  in  vain  that  rouses  the  soul :  nothing  in 
vain  that  keeps  the  ethereal  fire  alive  and  glowing. 

3.  A  man  can  never  be  obliged  to  submit  to  any 
power,  unless  he  can  be  satisfied  who  is  the  person  who 
has  a  right  to  exercise  it. 

Rule  XI. — Pav^e  before  that,  when  it  is  used  for  a  con- 
junction. 

EXAMPLE. 

It  is  in  society  only  that  we  can  relish  those  pure  deli- 
cious joys  which  embellish  and  gladden  the  life  of  man. 

Rule  XII. —  When  a  pause  is  necessary  at  prepositions 
and  conjunctions,  it  mv^t  be  before,  and  not  after  them- 
examples. 

1.  We  must  not  conform  to  the  world  in  their  amuse- 
ments and  diversions. 

2.  There  is  an  inseparable  connection  between  piety 
and  virtue. 

Rule  XIII. — In  an  elliptical  sentence,  pause  where  th^ 

ellipsis  takes  place, 

example. 

To  our   faith  we  should  add  virtue ;    and  to  virtue 

tnowledge ;  and  to  knowledge  temperance  ;  and  to  tern- 


60  PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 

perance  patience;  and  to  patience  godliness;  and  U> 
godliness  brotherly/  kindness ;  and  to  brotherly  kindness 
vharitT/. 

Rule  XIV. —  Words  placed  either  in  opposition  to,  or  in 
apposition  with  each  other,  must  be  distinguished  by  a 
pause. 

EXAMPLE. 

The  pleasures  of  the  imagination,  taken  in  their 
full  extent,  are  not  so  gross  as  those  of  sense,  nor  so 
refined  as  those  of  the  understanding. 

Rule  XV. —  When  prepositions  are  placed  in  oppositiim 
to  each  other,  and  all  of  them  are  intimately  connected 
with  another  word,  the  pause  after  the  second  preposi- 
tion must  be  shorter  than  that  after  the  first,  a7id  the 
pause  after  the  third  shorter  than  that  after  the  second. 

EXAMPLE. 

Rank,  distinction,  pre-eminence,  no  man  despises, 
unless  he  is  either  raised  very  much  above,  or  sunk  very 
much  below,  the  ordinary  standard  of  human  nature. 

RULES  FOR  READING  VERSE. 

On  the  Slides  or  Inflections  of  Verse. 

1.  The  first  general  rule  for  reading  verse  is,  that  we 
ought  to  give  it  that  measured  harmonious  flow  of  sound 
which  distinguishes  it  from  prose,  without  falling  into  a 
bombastic,  chanting  pronunciation,  which  makes  it  ridi- 
culous. 

2.  It  will  not  be  improper,  before  we  read  verse  witli 


PRINCIPLES    or    ELOCUTION.  e>] 

its  poetical  graces,  tj  pronounce  it  exactly  as  if  it  were 
prose :  this  will  be  depriving  verse  of  its  beauty,  but 
tvill  tend  to  preserve  it  from  deformity:  the  tones  of 
voice  will  be  frequently  different,  but  the  inflections  will 
be  nearly  the  same. 

3.  But  though  an  elegant  and  harmonious  pronuncia 
tion  of  verse  will  sometimes  oblige  us  to  adopt  different 
inflections  from  those  we  use  in  prose,  it  may  still  be 
laid  down  as  a  good  general  rule,  that  verse  requires 
the  same  inflections  as  prose,  though  less  strongly 
marked,  and  more  approaching  to  monotones. 

4.  Wherever  a  sentence,  or  member  of  a  sentence, 
would  necessarily  require  the  falling  inflection  in  prose, 
it  ought  always  to  have  the  same  inflection  in  poetry ; 
for  though,  if  we  were  to  read  verse  prosaically,  we 
should  often  place  the  falling  inflection  where  the  style 
of  verse  would  require  the  rising,  yet  in  those  parts 
where  a  portion  of  perfect  sense,  or  the  conclusion  of  a 
sentence,  necessarily  requires  the  falling  inflection,  the 
same  inflection  must  be  adopted  both  in  verse  and  prose. 

5.  In  the  same  manner,  though  we  frequently  suspend 
the  voice  by  the  rising  inflection  in  verse,  where,  if  the 
composition  were  prose,  we  should  adopt  the  falling,  yet, 
wherever  in  prose  the  member  or  sentence  would  neces- 
sarily require  the  rising  inflection,  this  inflection  must 
necessarily  be  adopted  in  verse. 

6.  It  may  be  observed,  indeed,  that  it  is  in  the  fre  • 
quent  use  of  the  rising  inflection,  where  prose  would 
adopt  the  falling,  that  the  song  of  poetry  consists ; 
familiar,  strong,  argumentative  subjects  naturally  en- 
ioYce  the  language  with  the  failing  inflection,  as  this  j« 


G2  PRINCIPLES  OF  ELOCUTION. 

naturally  expressive  of  activity,  force,  and  precision . 
but  grand,  beautiful,  and  plaintive  subjects  slide  natu 
rally  into  the  rising  inflection,  as  this  is  expressive  of 
awe,  admiration,  and  melancholy,  where  the  mind  may 
be  said  to  be  passive ;  and  it  is  this  general  tendency 
of  the  plaintive  tone  to  assume  the  rising  inflection, 
which  inclines  injudicious  readers  to  adopt  it  at  those 
pMuses  where  the  falling  inflection  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary, and  for  want  of  which  the  pronunciation  degene- 
rates into  the  whine,  so  much  and  so  justly  disliked ; 
for  it  is  very  remarkable,  that  if,  where  the  sense  con- 
cludes, we  are  careful  to  preserve  the  falling  inflection, 
and  let  the  voice  drop  into  the  natural  talking  tone,  the 
voice  may  be  suspended  in  the  rising  inflection  on  any 
other  part  of  the  verse,  with  very  little  danger  of  falling 
into  the  chant  of  bad  readers. 

On  the  Accent  and  Emphasis  of  Verse. 

In  verse,  every  syllable  must  have  the  same  accent, 
and  every  word  the  same  emphasis,  as  in  prose. 

In  words  of  two  syllables,  however,  when  the  poet 
transposes  the  accent  from  the  second  syllable  to  the 
ilrst,  we  may  comply  with  him,  without  occasioning  any 
harshness  in  the  verse; — but  when,  in  such  words,  he 
changes  the  accent  from  ihe  first  to  the  second  syllable, 
every  reader  who  has  the  least  delicacy  of  feeling  will 
certainly  preserve  the  common  accent  of  these  words  on 
the  first  syllable. 

In  misaccented  words  of  three  syllables,  perhaps  tho 
least  offensive  method  to  the  ear  of  preserving  the  ac 
:;ent,  and  not  entirely  violating  the  quantity,  would  b« 


PKINCIPLES    0¥    ELOChILO^  b^ 

to  place  nil  accent  on  the  syllable  immediately  preceding 
that  on  which  the  poet  has  misplaced  it,  without  drop- 
ping that  which  is  so  misplaced. 

The  same  rule  seems  to  hold  good  where  the  poet  has 
placed  the  accent  on  the  first  and  last  syllable  of  a  word, 
which  ought  to  have  it  on  the  middle  syllable. 

Where  a  word  admits  of  some  diversity  in  placing  tlie 
accent,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  observe,  that  the  verse 
ought  in  this  case  to  decide. 

But  when  the  poet  has  with  great  judgment  contrived 
that  his  numbers  shall  be  harsh  and  grating,  in  order  to 
3orrespond  with  the  ideas  they  suggest,  the  common 
accentuation  must  be  preserved. 

Hoiv  the  Vowels  e  and  o  are  to  be  pronounced,  when  apott- 
trophized. 

The  vowel  e,  whirii  in  poetry  is  often  cut  off  by  an 
apostrophe  in  the  word  the  and  in  unaccented  syllables 
before  r,  as  dangWous,  gen'rous,  &c.,  ought  always  to  be 
preserved  in  pronunciation,  because  the  syllable  it  forms 
is  so  short  as  to  admit  of  being  sounded  with  the  suc- 
ceeding syllable,  so  as  not  to  increase  the  number  of 
syllables  to  the  ear,  or  at  least  to  hurt  the  melody. 

The  same  observations,  in  every  respect,  hold  good  in 
the  pronunciation  of  the  preposition  to,  which  ought 
always  to  be  sounded  long,  like  the  adjective  two,  how- 
ever it  may  be  printed. 

On  the  Pause  or  Cc^sura  of  Verse. 
Almost  every  veise  admits  of  a  pause  in  or  near  the 
middle  of  the  line,  which  is  called  the  caesura  :  this  must 


04  PJtll^ClPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 

be  car)fullj  observed  in  reading  verse,  or  mucb  of  tht 
distinctness,  and  almost  all  the  harmony,  will  be  lost. 

Though  the  most  harmonious  place  for  the  capital 
pause  is  after  the  fourth  syllable,  it  may,  for  the  sake 
of  expressing  the  sense  strongly  and  suitably,  and  even 
Bometimes  for  the  sake  of  variety,  be  placed  at  several 
other  intervals. 

The  end  of  a  line  in  verse  naturally  inclines  us  to 
pause;  and  the  words  that  refuse  a  pause  so  seldom 
occur  at  the  end  of  a  verse,  that  we  often  pause  between 
words  in  verse  where  we  should  not  in  prose,  but  where 
a  pause  would  by  no  means  interfere  with  the  sense 
This,  perhaps,  may  be  the  reason  why  a  pause  at  the 
end  of  a  line  in  poetry  is  supposed  to  be  in  compliment 
to  the  verse,  when  the  very  same  pause  in  prose  is 
allowable,  and  perhaps  eligible,  but  neglected  as  unne- 
cessary :  however  this  be,  certain  it  is,  that  if  we  pro- 
Tiounce  many  lines  in  Milton,  so  as  to  make  the  equality 
of  impressions  on  the  ear  distinctly  perceptible  at  the 
end  of  every  line ;  if,  by  making  this  pause,  we  make 
the  pauses  that  mark  the  sense  less  perceptible,  we  ex- 
change a  solid  advantage  for  a  childish  rhythm,  and,  by 
endeavoring  to  preserve  the  name  of  verse,  lose  all  its 
meaning  and  energy. 

On  the  Cadence  of  Verse, 

In  order  to  form  a  cadence  at  a  period  in  rhyming 
verse,  we  must  adopt  the  falling  inflection  with  consi- 
derable force  in  the  caesura  of  the  last  line  but  one. 


riiixciPLES  OF  elocutio:t.  6f. 

How  to  pronounce  a  Simile  in  Poetry. 

A  simile  in  poetry  ought  a^Tvays  to  be  read  in  a  lower 
tone  of  voice  than  that  part  of  the  passage  which  pre- 
redes  it. 

This  rule  is  one  of  the  greatest  embellishments  of 
poetic  pronunciation,  and  is  to  be  observed  no  less  in 
blank  verse  than  in  rhyme. 

General  Rules. 

Where  there  is  no  pause  in  the  sense  at  the  end  of  a 
verse,  the  last  word  must  have  exactly  the  same  inflec- 
tion it  would  have  in  prose. 

Sublime,  grand,  and  magnificent  description  in  poetry 
requires  a  lower  tone  of  voice,  and  a  sameness  nearly 
approaching  to  a  monotone. 

When  the  first  line  of  a  couplet  does  not  form  perfect 
sense,  it  is  necessary  to  suspend  the  voice  at  the  end  of 
the  line  with  the  rising  slide. 

This  rule  holds  good  even  where  the  first  line  forma 
perfect  sense  by  itself,  and  is  followed  by  another  form- 
ing perfect  sense  likewise,  provided  the  first  line  does 
not  end  with  an  emphatic  word  which  requires  the 
falling  slide. 

But  if  the  first  line  ends  with  an  emphatical  word 
requiring  the  falling  slide,  this  slide  must  be  given  to  it, 
but  in  a  higher  tone  of  voice  than  the  same  slide  in  the 
last  line  of  the  couplet. 

When  the  first  line  of  a  couplet  does  not  form  sense, 
and  the  second  line,  either  from  its  not  forming  sense, 
or  from  its  being  a  question,  requires  the  rising  slide ; 
in  this  case,  the  first  line  must  end  with  such  a  pause  aa 


66  PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 

the  sense  requires,  but  without  any  alteration  in  the 
tone  of  the  voice. 

In  the  same  manner,  if  a  question  requires  the  second 
line  of  the  couplet  to  adopt  the  rising  slide,  the  first 
ought  to  have  a  pause  at  the  end ;  but  the  voice,  with- 
out any  alteration,  ought  to  carry  on  the  same  tone  to 
the  second  line,  and  to  continue  this  tone  almost  to  the 
end. 

The  same  principles  of  harmony  and  variety  induce 
us  to  read  a  triplet  with  a  sameness  of  voice,  or  a  mono- 
tone, on  the  end  of  the  first  line,  the  rising  slide  on  the 
end  of  the  second,  and  the  falling  on  the  last. 

This  rule,  however,  from  the  various  sense  of  the 
triplet,  is  liable  to  many  exceptions.  But,  with  very 
few  exceptions,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  rule,  that  a 
quatrain  or  stanza  of  four  lines  of  alternate  verse,  may 
be  read  with  the  monotone  ending  the  first  line,  the 
rising  slide  ending  the  second  and  third,  and  the  falling 
the  last. 

The  plaintive  tone,  so  essential  to  the  delivery  of 
elegiac  composition,  greatly  diminishes  the  slides,  and 
reduces  them  almost  to  monotones ;  nay,  a  perfect  mono- 
tone, without  any  inflection  at  all,  is  sometimes  very 
judiciously  introduced  in  reading  verse. 

On  Scanning. 

A  certain  number  of  syllables  connected  form  a  foot. 
They  are  called  feet,  because  it  is  by  their  aid  that  the 
voice,  as  it  were,  steps  along  through  the  verse,  in  a 
measured  pace. 

All  feet  used  in  poetry  consist  either  of  two  or  of 


PRINCIPLES    OF    ELOCUTION. 


67 


tfiree  syllables,  and  a^'C  reducible  to  eight  kinds ;  four 
of  two  syllables,  and  four  of  three,  as  follow : — 

The  hyphen  -  marks  a  long,  and  the  breve  -  a  shoi*. 
syllable. 


Dissyllable, 
A  Trochee  -  - 
An  Iambus  -  - 

A  Spondee  

A  Pyrrhic    ^  ^ 


TrUyllMe, 
A  Dactyl 
An  Amphibrach 
An  Anapaest 
A  Tribrach 


#>^ 


\^ 


i(^. 


THE 

FIFTH  PROGRESSIVE  READER, 

PART   II. 


L— POPE  ST    LEO  THE  GREAT  AND  ATTILA. 

1>AJRBAS. 
I 

Rev  J.  E.  Darras  is  a  French  writer  of  eminence.  The  following 
is  taken  from  his  "General  History  of  the  Church,"  which  has  been 
tmnslflted  into  English,  and  enriched  with  a  learned  Introduction  and 
Notes,  by  the  Most  Rev.  M.  J.  Spalding,  D.D., -Archbishop  of  Baltimore. 
It  is  a  work  of  great  abiUty  and  research,  and  is  written  in  a  very 
clear  and  captivating  style. 

1.  Whilst  tliis  great  pontiff  thus  brought  back  peace 
and  uuity  of  faith  to  the  Church  in  the  East,  he  had  in 
the  West  checked  the  onward  course  of  the  fierce  king 
of  the  Huns,*  who  was  pushing  on  his  victorious  hordes 
over  the  ruins  of  the  Bo  man  world. 

2.  Attila,  the  most  formidable  mower  of  tnen  who 
had  yet  led  on  the  barbarian  invaders,  seemed  boru 
for  the  terror  of  the  world.  He  had  come  originally 
from  the  forests  of  Tartary,^  and  his  destiny  appeared 
to  be  attended  by  something  inexpHcably^  terrific, 
which  made  a  fearful  impression  upon  the  generality 


70  THE   FIFTH   RFADEil. 

of  men.  His  gait  and  carriage  were  full  of  pride  and 
haughtiness ;  the  movements  of  his  body  and  the  roll- 
ing of  his  eyes  spoke  his  conscious  power.  His  short 
*tature,  broad  chest,  and  still  larger  head,  thin  beard, 
and  swarthy  features,  plainly  told  his  origin.  His 
capital  was  a  camp  in  the  fields  by  the  Danube.*  The 
kings  he  had  conquered  kept  guard  by  turns  at  the 
door  of  his  tent.  His  own  table  was  set  with  wooden 
platters  and  coarse  food,  whilst  his  soldiers  sported 
with  gold  and  silver  vases. 

3.  Enthroned  upon  a  low  stool,  the  Tartar  chief  re- 
ceived the  ambassadors  of  Yalentinian  IH.  and  Theo- 
dosius  the  Younger,  whose  credulity  he  deceived  in  a 
manner  that  would  have  done  credit  to  the  most  prac- 
ticed courtier  of  Constantinople  or  of  Rome.  He  said 
of  himself  with  savage  energy  :  "  The  star  falls,  the 
earth  trembles  ;  I  am  the  hammer  of  the  universe. 
The  grass  never  grows  again  where  Attila's  hoi'se  has 
once  trod."  He  claimed  the  ofiicial  title  of  Samrge  of 
God. 

4.  The  two  emperors  of  Ravenna''  and  of  Constan- 
tinople'' thought  to  stop  the  barbarian  at  their  gates, 
by  allowing  him  the  title  of  General  of  the  Empire,  and 
allowmg  him  a  tribute  which  they  regarded  as  his  pay. 
The  Hun  remarked  on  this  subject :  "  The  generals  of 
emperors  are  servants  ;  Attila's  servants  are  emperors." 
He  one  day  sent  two  Goths,  one  to  Theodosius  II.,  tlie 
other  to  Valen tinian  HI. ,  with  this  message  ;  "  Attila, 


THE   riFTn   READKR.  71 

my  master  and  jours,  orders  you  to  prepare  liiin   a 
palace."     This  meant  an  invasion. 

5,  Dragging  along  with  him  a  train  of  tributary 
piinces  and  five  hundred  thousand  barbarians,  he 
crossed  the  Khine  and  pushed  on  through  the  pro- 
vinces of  Gaul  (a.  d.  451).  Several  of  its  cities  were 
given  up  to  pillage  and  to  the  violence  of  an  unbridled 
soldiery. 

6.  Metz  had  provoked  a  redder  vengeance  by  a 
longer  resistance,  and  saw  its  streets  flowing  with  the 
blood  of  the  greater  part  of  its  inhabitants.  The  sur- 
vivors, with  their  bishop,  were  led  away  captives,  and 
the  city,  given  up  to  the  flames,  was  soon  but  a  heap 
of  ashes.  Troyes  was  threatened  with  the  same  fate. 
Its  holy  bishop.  Lupus,  importuned  the  mercy  of  God 
by  his  ceaseless  prayers,  tears,  fasts,  and  good  wr"ks. 
At  length,  inspired  with  a  supernatural  confidenct,  he 
goes  forth  in  full  pontifical  attire,  to  meet  the  bar- 
barian, and  asks  him  :  "  Who  art  thou  that  dost  over- 
come so  many  kings  and  nations,  ruin  so  many  cltieH, 
and  subdue  the  world  V"  Attila  replied  :  "  I  am  King 
vf  the  Huns,  the  Scourge  of  God  /"  "  If  thou  art  the 
scourge  of  my  God,"  returned  the  bishop,  "  remember 
to  do  only  what  is  allowed  thee  by  the  hand  that 
moves  and  governs  thee."  Attila,  astonished  at  the 
boldness  of  this  address,  and  awed  by  the  majesty  oi 
tJie  holy  prelate,  promised  to  spare  the  city,  and  passed 
through  it  without  doing  it  any  harm. 


/.  THE  FirrH   READER. 

\  In  Paris,  such  was  the  dismay  that  the  inhabit 
tanttf  wore  preparing  to  leave  the  city,  with  tlieir  wives 
and  children,  to  seek  the  protection  of  some  more 
strongly  fortified  place.  St.  Genevieve,  the  hnmblo 
virgin  of  Nanterre,  became  the  patroness  and  mother 
of  the  city.  She  restored  the  failing  courage,  provided 
for  every  want,  procured  means  of  subsistence  for  the 
affrighted  multitude,  and  promised,  in  the  name  of 
Heaven,  that  Attila  should  not  approach  the  walls  of 
Paris. 

8.  In  effect,  Attila,  suddenly  changing  the  direction 
of  his  march,  fell  with  his  savage  hordes,  upon  the  city 
of  Orleans.  This  city,  which  seemed  marked  out  for 
miraculous  deliverances,  was  then  governed  by  the 
holy  Bishop  St.  Aignan,  to  whom  it  owed  its  safety 
He  had  been  able  to  go  to  Aries  and  solicit  help  from 
^tius,  the  Roman  general.  Just  as  Orleans  was  on 
the  point  of  opening  its  gates  to  the  besiegers,  the 
combined  armies  of  ^tius  and  Theodoric,  king  of  the 
Visigoths,  came  within  sight  of  its  walls.  Attila,  foam- 
ing with  rage,  raised  the  siege,  and  in  the  plain  of 
Chalons  sought  a  field  in  which  he  could  display  his 
forces  and  meet  his  opponents. 

9.  The  confederates  counted  a  body  of  Franks  com- 
manded by  their  Prince  Meroveus.  The  two  armies, 
now  encamped  face  lo  face,  numbered  about  a  million 
warriors  They  met  •  and  then  ensued  one  of  the 
bloodiest  battles  that  crimson  the   pages  of  history. 


THE   FIFTH    UEADElt.  73 

Th.-^e  hundred  thousand  slain  encumbered  the  fiekl ; 
a  little  neighboring  stream  was  swelled  like  a  torrent 
by  the  quantity  of  blood  that  flowed  into  its  channel. 
Theodoric  fell,  but  his  valor  had  won  the  victory  for 
the  allies.  Attila  was  utterly  defeated,  and  recrossed 
the  Ehine  in  hasty  flight. 

10.  In  the  following  year  (a.d.  452)  he  reappeared, 
moro  formidable  than  ever,  on  the  borders  of  Italy, 
leaving  Pannonia'  and  Noricum'  wasted  by  fire  and 
sword.  Yalentinian  III.  made  a  precipitate  retreat 
from  Ravenna,  and  hastened  to  seek  shelter  within  the 
walls  of  Eome.  Attila  besieged  and  destroyed  the 
cities  of  Aquileia,  Padua,  Yerona,  Vicenza,  Brescia, 
and  Bergamo;  Milan  and  Pavia^  were  given  up  to 
pillage. 

11.  The  Hun  pushed  on  amid  the  smoking  rums  of 
the  conquered  cities,  and  halted  near  Mantua,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mincio** ;  the  terrified  inhabitants  fled  at 
his  approach,  and  sought,  in  the  marshes  where  Venice 
now  stands,  a  refuge  from  the  violence  of  the  vic- 
torious barbarians.  The  last  hour  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire seemed  at  hand;  St.  Leo  succeeded  in  wn-idin;^ 
off  the  threatened  ruin.  He  appeared  before  Attila  as 
the  ambassador  of  Heaven,  as  a  herald  of  peace. 

12.  The  two  great  sovereignties  of  the  Word  and 
the  Sword  stood  face  to  face ;  and  the  Sword  bowed 

•  Cities  of  Italy. 


74 


THE    1  Ifl'H   READER. 


before  the  majesty  of  the  GospeL  Attila  was  a'ved  by 
the  bearing  of  the  great  pontiff  whose  fame  had 
reached  the  remote  borders  of  Tartary,  and  he  lent  a 
favorable  ear  to  his  propositions  ;  qnitting  the  soil  of 
Italy,  he  withdrew  across  the  Danube,  where  death 
suddenly  snatched  him  from  the  midst  of  his  plans  of 
destruction  (a  d  453 ).  On  his  return  from  the  suc- 
cessful embassy,  the  pope  was  received  in  triumph, 
and  the  enthusiastic  people  bestowed  upon  him  the 
title  of  Great. 


>  Huns,  a  people  of  Northern  Asia, 

who  had  conquered  and  taken 
possession  of  the  Grerman  prov- 
inces north  of  the  Danube. 

•  Tab'-ta-ey,  a  vast  extent  of  coun- 

try in  Asia,  bordering  on  the 
Asiatic  Provinces  of  Russia,  on 
Persia,  Thibet  and  the  Chinese 
Empire. 

>  In-ex-plic'-a-blt,   in  a  manner 

not  to  be  explained. 
Dan-tjbe,  a  large  river  of  South- 
em  Europe. 

•  BATEai'-NA,  a  city  of  Italy,  for- 


merly the  residence  of  the  Bo- 
man  Emperors. 

6  CoN-STAN-Ti-NO-PLE,  the  present 
capital  of  Turkey,  was  formerly 
the  capital  and  residence  of  the 
Emperors  of  the  East. 

'  Pan-no-nia',  the  ancient  Panno- 
nia  was  a  considerable  territory 
in  the  southern  part  of  Europe. 

*  Nor'-i-oum,  that  part  of  South 
Germany  between  the  Save  and 
the  Danube. 

9  MiN-ci-o,  a  river  of  Italy. 


U.— THE  TYEANT  AND  THE  CAPTIVE. 

ADELAIDE   A.    PEOCTOE. 

1.  It  was  midnight  when  I  listened. 
And  I  heard  two  Voices  speak 
One  was  harsh,  and  stero,  and  cruel, 
And  the  other  soft  and  weak : 


THE   FIFTH   KEADER.  75 

Yet  I  saw  no  Vision  enter, 

And  I  lieard  no  steps  depart, 
Of  this  tyrant  and  his  captive — 

Fate  it  might  be  and  a  Heart 

2.  Thus  the  stern  Yoice  spake  in  triumph 

"I  have  shut  your  life  away 
From  the  radiant  world  of  nature. 

And  the  perfumed  light  of  day. 
You,  who  loved  to  steep  your  spirit 

In  the  charm  of  Earth's  delight, 
See  no  glory  of  the  daytime. 

And  no  sweetness  of  the  night." 

3.  But  the  soft  Yoice  answered  cal|ply: 

"  Nay,  for  when  the  March  winds  bring 
Just  a  whisper  to  my  window, 

I  can  dream  the  rest  of  Spring; 
And  to-day  I  saw  a  swallow 

Flitting  past  my  prison  bars, 
And  my  cell  has  just  one  corner 

Whence  at  night  I  see  the  stars.  " 

4.  But  its  bitter  taunt  repeating, 

Cried  the  harsh  Voice :  "  Where  are  ti  oy 
All  the  friends  of  former  hours, 

Who  forget  your  name  to-day? 
All  the  links  of  love  are  shattered. 

Which  you  thought  so  strong  before ; 
And  your  very  heart  is  lonely. 

And  alone,  since  loved  no  more." 


76  TUK   FIFTH   EEADER. 

5.  But  the  low  Voice  spoke  still  lower: 

"Nay,  I  know  the  golden  chain 
Of  my  love  is  purer,  stronger, 

For  the  cruel  fire  of  pain : 
They  remember  me  no  longer, 

But  I,  grieving  here  alone. 
Bind  their  souls  to  me  forever 

By  the  love  within  my  own." 

6.  But  the  Voice  cried  :  "  Once  remember 

You  devoted  soul  and  mind 
To  the  welfare  of  your  brethren, 

And  the  service  of  your  kind. 
Now,  v^hat  sorrow  can  you  comfort? 

You,  who  lie  in  helpless  pain, 
"With  an  impotent  compassion 

Fretting  out  your  life  in  vain." 

7.  "Nay;"  and  then  the  gentle  answer 

Bose  more  loud  and  full  and  clear ; 
"  For  the  sake  of  all  my  brethren, 

I  thank  God  that  I  am  here! 
Poor  had  been  my  Life's  best  efforts. 

Now  I  waste  no  thought  or  breath — 
For  the  prayer  of  those  who  suffer 

Has  the  strength  of  Love  and  Death." 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  77 

in. -ALFRED  THE   GREAT. 

COIililEE. 

1.  There  was  a  race  of  men,  commonly  called  tho 
Danes,  but  more  correctly  known  as  the  Norsemen, 
who  affected  the  history  of  all  Western  Europe,  and 
especially  the  history  of  England,  to  an  immense  ex- 
tent. They  were  something  of  the  Saxon  type — fierce, 
fair-haired  warriors,  whose  eyes  darted  blue  lightning, 
and  whose  chief  weapons  were  the  ax  and  the  wai-- 
hammer.  Their  favorite  plan  was  to  push  up  the 
rivers  in  their  light  vessels,  which  were  painted  and 
gilt  to  represent  dragons,  and  so  to  penetrate  a  land 
very  deeply  and  ravage  it  very  cruelly.  "When  they 
came  to  a  town,  they  killed  the  people,  carried  off  the 
wealth,  and  burned  the  houses  to  the  ground.  They 
carried  a  banner,  on  which  the  image  of  a  huge  raven 
was  displayed  in  dark  and  terrible  colors.  They  had  a 
particular  grudge  against  the  Saxons,  because  the  latter, 
for  the  most  part,  had  abandoned  heathenism  and  be- 
come Christians. 

2.  The  man  who  most  bravely  and  successfully 
fought  against  the  Danes,  was  born  about  sixty  years 
after  they  began  to  plunder  tho  English  shore.  This 
was  Alfred,  the  son  of  EthulwuJf  and  Osberga,  and  is 
celebrated  in  history  as  Alfred  the  Great  Eew  kings, 
M'ho  have  borne  that  additional  name,  have  deserved  it 
so  well.  From  his  earliest  days  Alfred  showed  signs 
of  ability  far  beyond  what  is  common.     A  story  is  told 


70  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

ot  his  cliildliood,  which,  though  not  certainly  true,  may 
^iid  a  place  in  this  book. 

3.  One  day  his  mother,  or  rather  his  stepmother, 
showed  Alfred  and  his  brothers  a  book  of  Saxon  poetry, 
bordered  and  adorned  with  very  beautiful  paintings  or 
illuminations,  as  they  wore  then  called,  and  promised 
to  give  the  precious  manuscript  to  whichever  of  the 
Doyi  would  repeat  the  poetry  best.  Alfred,  aged 
abo  it  six,  won  the  prize  with  some  help  from  his  tutor. 
But  when  Alfred  came  to  the  throne  in  his  twenty- 
seco:  \d  year,  he  ran  the  risk  at  first  of  souring  and  dis- 
pleaf  ing  his  subjects  by  ruling  them  too  harshly,  and 
forcii  ig  new  laws  too  violently  upon  them. 

4.  For  this  reason  it  was,  that  when  the  Danes  made 
an  attack  by  sea  upon  the  southern  shore,  there  were 
very  few  men  who  cared  to  help  Alfred  in  beating 
them  back;  and  so  the  young  monarch  was  driven 
from  his  throne  to  hide  himself  among  the  woods  and 
marshes  of  Somersetshire.  This  piece  of  temporary 
bad  fortune  did  good  both  to  him  and  to  his  people. 
It  softened  the  sternness  of  his  nature,  and  allowed 
them  time  to  forget  his  early  harshness.  His  hiding- 
place  was  the  Island  of  Athelney,  a  little  patch  of 
ground  covered  with  alder-trees.  A  bridge  was  built 
over  the  stream,  and  here  the  king  lay,  hidden  but  not 
forgotten,  for  a  whole  winter. 

5.  It  was  while  he  lived  in  this  miserable  condition 
that  he  found  his  way  ont-  day  into  the  cabin  of  a  mai: 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  76 

that  herded  oxen.  The  man  was  out,  but  his  wife  wel- 
comed the  wanderer,  and  invited  him  to  sit  down  and 
warm  himself  at  the  fire  of  logs  that  crackled  in  the 
center  of  the  clay  floor.  Alfred,  who  was  dressed  in 
the  common  clothes  of  a  peasant,  took  out  his  knife 
and  began  to  shape  a  part  of  his  bow  that  needed  trim- 
ming. The  woman  asked  him  to  see  that  the  cakes 
which  were  baking  on  the  fire  did  not  bum ;  but  he 
was  either  too  tired,  or  too  much  wrapped  in  thought, 
or  too  much  devoted  to  the  shaping  of  his  bow ;  for, 
when  she  turned  again  to  look,  the  bread  was  black 
and  smoking.  Little  dreaming  that  she  was  scolding 
her  king,  the  herdsman's  wife  poured  out  a  torrent  of 
shrill  abuse,  and  told  the  culprit  that,  although  he  was 
lazy  in  watching  the  cakes,  she  was  sure  he  would  eat 
them  greedily  enough  when  they  were  baked.  \ 

6.  When  the  news  spread  quietly  among  the  Saxons 
of  Wessex,  that  Alfred  was  living  in  the  swamp  of  Ath- 
elney,  the  young  men  gathered  secretly  around  him; 
and,  when  the  white  blossoms  of  the  hawthorn  came 
out,  he  left  the  island  with  a  little  army  of  brave  men. 
Before  engaging  in  battle,  he  is  said  to  have  taken  the 
very  dangerous  step  of  going  in  a  minstrel's  dress  into 
the  camp  of  the  Danes  and  playing  there,  until  he  was 
invited  to  feast  with  the  chief.  All  the  evening  he 
played  and  sang  most  skillfully,  and  the  unsuspicious 
Danes  talked  in  the  pauses  of  the  music  about  their 
plans  and  their  contempt  of  the  conquered  Saxons. 


80  THE   FIFTH    READER. 

7.  His  ear,  though  he  did  not  seem  to  listen,  caught 
every  word  of  the  boastful  talk,  which  was  all  the  truer 
and  less  guarded,  when  the  mead  began  to  affect  the 
soldiers'  brains.  When  the  revel  was  over,  the  min- 
strel stole  away  to  the  little  Saxon  hivouac^  in  the 
forest  of  Selwood,  and  there  made  his  arangements  for 
a  dash  upon  the  Danes.  Next  day  he  managed  to 
place  his  men  between  the  Northmen  and  their  camp 
which  was  a  round  or  oval  inclosure  high  upon  a  hill 
It  was  sunset  before  the  battle  was  decided.  The 
Danes  ran  away  up  the  sides  of  the  hill  and  hid  them- 
selves in  their  camp,  where  for  a  fortnight,  but  no 
longer,  they  held  out  against  the  assaults  of  a  Saxon 
army,  which  grew  larger  every  day.  By  the  battle  of 
Ethandune,  as  the  first  encounter  is  called,  Alfred  re- 
gained the  throne  of  Wessex.* 

8.  Alfred  though  tortured  by  an  internal  illness,  was 
a  most  active  man.  Having  invented  time-candles 
which  burned  down  one  inch  every  twenty  minutes, 
and  having  then  made  lanterns  of  horn  to  keep  the 
draughts  from  blowing  out  the  lights,  he  divided  his 
day  into  three  equal  parts,  one  allotted  to  business,  a 
second  to  study  and  worship,  and  the  third  to  rest  and 
recreation.     After  a  short  sleep  under  a  goatskin  quilt 

*  Egbert  and  his  immediate  successors  styled  themselves  '  Kings  ot 
Wessex  ;"  siuce  it  was  that  kingdom  which  absorbed  into  itself  all  the 
smaller  States  iu  the  South,  and  finally  succeeded  in  making  tributary 
to  itself  the  larger  kingdoms  of  Mercia,  East  Anglia,  and  Northum- 
bria. 


TUK   YIVTE   READEK.  81 

Jio  rose  vvitli  the  earliest  dawn  of  summer  to  his  work. 
A  short  prayer  and  a  scanty  breakfast  were  his  first 
concerns.  After  spending  some  hours  in  the  business 
of  the  state,  he  would  mount  his  horse,  and  gallop  off 
into  the  forest  after  a  wild  boar  or  a  red  deer.  Then 
came  dinner  and  a  sleep,  after  which  some  more  offi- 
cial work  was  done.  The  evening  was  given  to  study, 
dictation,  or  literary  conversation. 

9.  We  have  seen  how  Alfred  suffered  in  Athelney 
and  triumphed  in  Ethandune.  He  inflicted  another 
great  defeat  upon  the  Danes  before  he  died.  There 
came  to  the  shore  of  Kent  a  fleet  that  seemed  number- 
less, consisting  of  more  than  two  hundr:ul  ships,  and 
its  chief  was  the  great  Hastings,  the  best-known  pirate 
of  his  day.  The  Danes  landed,  and,  by  forming  great 
intrenched  camps,  succeeded  in  holding  their  ground 
for  a  long  tim.e.  Their  principal  station,  and  their  last 
one,  was  at  Ware  upon  the  Lea,  whence  they  threat- 
ened London  on  the  north. 

10.  Alfred  came  on  them  at  a  time  when  they  were 
just  preparing  to  reap  a  afield  of  corn,  w^hich  some 
Saxon  farmer  had  sown,  but  upon  which,  all  the  sum- 
mer, thoy  had  been  casting  covetous  eyes.  We  can 
faintly  imagine  their  rage  when  they  saw  one-half  of 
Alfred's  force  lay  down  their  spears  and  S(3t  to  work 
with  sickles  on  the  grain.  The  reaping,  the  binding, 
the  carting,  were  calmly  and  securely  done,  while  the 
Danes   looked  on  in  helpless  rage  from  their  strong 


82  THE   FIFTH   READEK. 

entrencliments,  wliicli  were  utterly  useless  1*1  tliis  case. 
Alfred  knew  well  that  the  Danes  depended  chiefly  on 
their  ships,  and  that  to  render  them  useless  would  be 
like  robbing  Samson  of  his  hair. 

11.  Secretly,  therefore,  but  ceaselessly,  he  set  diggers 
to  work  upon  the  banks  of  the  stream,  who  trenched 
the  land  in  two  long  channels,  parallel  to  the  natural 
bed,  in  whose  waters  the  Danish  fleet  was  floating. 
When  all  was  ready  he  cut  a  way  for  the  river  to  flow 
into  these  artificial  troughs,  and  thus  render  the  stream 
so  shallow  that  the  ships  ran  aground  and  fell  on  their 
sides,  useless,  and  incapable  of  being  stirred  by  wind 
or  oar.  It  was  a  fatal  blow  to  the  pirates,  who  aban- 
doned their  works,  and,  scattering  over  the  country, 
got  home  with  difficulty  next  year,  in  some  leaky  ships 
which  they  managed  to  borrow  from  the  Danes  of  the 
eastern  coast.  Five  years  after  this  skillful  achieve^ 
ment  Alfred  died  (901). 

•  Biv'-ouAC,  (biv'-uak)  to  watch  or  be  oii  gUard  as  a  whole  army. 


IV.— THE  STORY  OF  KING  ALFRED  A>T)  SAINT  CUTHBERHT. 

I^BEEMAN. 

From  Old  English  History  for  Children,  b'"  Edward  A.  Freeman,  M.  A 

1.  Now  King  illfred  was  driven  from  his  kingdom  by 

the  Danes,  and  he  lay  hid  for  three  years  in  the  Isle  of 

Glastonbury.     And  it  came  to  jjass  on  a  day  that  all 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  8J> 

his  folk  were  gone  out  to  fish,  save  only  Alfred  himself, 
and  his  wife,  and  one  servant  whom  he  loved.  And 
there  came  a  pilgrim  to  the  king,  and  begged  for  food. 
And  the  king  said  to  his  servant,  "  What  food  have  we 
in  the  house  ?  '"  And  his  servant  answered,  "  My  lord, 
we  have  but  one  loaf  and  a  little  wine."  Then  the  king 
gave  thanks  to  God,  and  said,  "  Give  half  of  the  loaf 
and  half  of  the  wine  to  this  poor  pilgrim."  / 

So  the  servant  did  as  his  lord  commanded  him,  and 
gave  to  the  pilgrim  half  of  the  loaf  and  half  of  the  wine, 
and  the  pilgrim  gave  great  thanks  to  the  king.  And 
when  the  servant  returned  he  found  the  loaf  whole,  and 
the  wine  as  much  as  there  had  been  aforetime.  And 
he  wondered  also  how  the  pilgrim  came  into  the  isle, 
for  that  no  man  could  come  there  save  by  water,  and 
the  pilgrim  had  no  boat.  And  the  king  greatly  won- 
dered also.  And  at  the  ninth  hour  came  back  the  folk 
who  had  gone  to  fish ;  and  they  had  three  boats  full  of 
fish.  And  they  said,  "  Lo,  we  have  caught  more  fish 
this  day  than  in  all  the  three  years  that  we  have  tarried 
in  this  island." 

3.  And  the  king  was  glad,  and  he  and  his  folk  were 
merry ;  yet  he  pondered  much  upon  that  which  had 
come  to  pass.  And  when  night  came,  the  king  went  to 
his  bed  with  Elizabeth,  his  wife.  And  the  lady  slept, 
but  the  king  lay  awake  and  thought  of  all  that  had 
come  to  pass  that  day.  And  presently  he  saw  a  great 
light,  like  the  brightness  of  the  Bun,  and  he  saw  an  old 


84  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

man  with  black  hair,  clothed  in  priest's  garments,  and 
with  a  mitre  on  his  head,  and  holding  in  his  right  hand 
a  book  of  the  Gospels,  adorned  with  gold  and  gems. 

4.  And  the  old  man  blessed  the  king,  and  the  king 
said  unto  him,  "  Who  art  thou?"  And  he  answered, 
**  Alfred,  iny  son,  rejoice  ;  for  I  am  he  to  whom  thou 
didst  this  day  give  thine  alms,  and  I  am  called  Cuth- 
berht,  the  soldier  of  Christ.     Now  be  strong  and  very 

courageous,  and  be  of  joyful  heart,  and  hearken  dili- 
gently to  the  things  which  I  say  unto  thee  ;  for  hence 
forth  I  will  be  thy  shield  and  thy  friend,  and  I  will 
watch  over  thee  and  over  thy  sons  after  thee. 

5.  "And  now  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  must  do. 
Rise  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  blow  thine  horn 
thrice,  that  thine  enemies  may  hear  it  and  fear,  and  by 
the  ninth  hour  thou  shalt  have  around  thee  five  hun- 
dred men  harnessed  for  the  battle.  And  this  shall  be 
a  sign  unto  thee  that  thou  mayest  beheve.  And  after 
seven  days  thou  shalt  have,  by  God's  gift  and  my  help, 
all  the  folk  of  this  land  gathered  unto  thee  upon  the 
mount  that  is  called  Assandun.  And  thus  shalt  thou 
fight  against  thine  enemies,  and  doubt  not  that  thou 
shalt  overcome  them. 

6.  "  Be  thou  therefore  glad  of  heart,  and  be  strong 
and  very  courageous,  and  fear  not,  for  God  hath  given 
thine  enemies  into  thine  hand.  And  He  hath  given 
thee,  also,  all  this  land  ^.nd  the  kingdom  of  thy  fatliers 
to  thee  and  to  thy  sons  and  to  thy  sons'  sons  after 


THE   FIFTH   KEADEK.  85 

thee.  Be  tliou  faithful  to  me  and  to  my  folk,  because 
that  unto  thee  is  given  all  the  land  of  Albion.  Be  thou 
righteous,  because  thou  art  chosen  to  be  the  king  of 
all  Britain.  So  may  God  be  merciful  unto  thee,  and  I 
will  be  thy  friend,  and  none  of  thine  enemies  shall  ever 
be  able  to  overcome  thee." 

7.  Then  was  king  Alfred  glad  at  heart ;  and  he  was 
strong  and  very  courageous,  for  that  he  knew  that  he 
would  overcome  his  enemies  by  the  help  of  God  and 
Saint  Cuthberht,  his  patron.  So  in  the  morning  he 
arose,  sailed  to  the  land,  and  blew  his  horn  three  times, 
and  when  his  friends  heard  it  they  rejoiced,  and  when 
his  enemies  heard  it  they  feared.  And  by  the  ninth 
hour,  according  to  the  word  of  the  Lord,  there  were 
gathered  unto  him  five  hundred  of  the  bravest  and 
dearest  of  his  friends. 

8.  And  he  spake  unto  them  and  told  them  all  that 
God  had  said  unto  him  by  the  mouth  of  his  servant 
Cuthberht,  and  he  told  them  that,  by  the  gift  of  God 
and  by  the  help  of  Saint  Cuthberht,  they  would  over- 
come their  enemies  and  win  back  their  own  land.  And 
he  bade  them,  as  Saint  Cuthberht  had  taught  him,  to 
be  pious  toward  God  and  righteous  toward  men.  And 
he  bade  his  son  Edward,  who  was  by  him,  to  be  faith- 
ful to  God  and  Saint  Cuthberht,  and  so  he  should 
always  have  the  victory  over  his  enemies.  So  the} 
went  forth  to  battle  and  smote  their  enemies,  and  over- 
came them  ;  then  king  Alfred  took  the  kingdom  of  all 


8H  THE   FIFTH   RP.ADER. 

Britain,  and  lie  ruled  well  and  wisely  over  the  just  and 
the  unjust  for  the  rest  of  his  days. 


v.— THE   IVOEY  CRUCIFIX. 

G.  H.  MILES. 

George  H.  Miles,  recently  deceased  (1871),  was  born  in  Baltimore. 
He  was  a  writer  of  rare  talent  and  high  culture,  and  will  always  rank 
high  among  the  poets  and  prose  writers  of  America. 

1.  Within  an  attic  old  at  Genoa, 

Full  many  a  year,  I  ween, 
Had  lain  a  block  of  ivory. 
The  largest  ever  seen. 

2.  Though  wooing  centuries  had  wiled 

Its  purity  away, 
•    Gaunt  Time  had  made  her  slender  meal, 
So  well  it  braved  decay. 

3.  If  we  must  trust  Tradition's  tongue. 

Some  mastodon^  before 
The  wave  kissed  Ararat's  tall  peak. 
The  splendid  trophy  wore. 

4.  Certes,  no  elephant  e'er  held 

Aloft  so  rich  a  prize, 
Not  India's  proudest  jungle  boasts 
A  tusk  of  half  the  size. 

5.  A  Monk  obtained  and  to  his  cell 

The  relic  rare  conveyed. 
And  bending  o'er  the  uncouth  block 
This  Mouk,  communing/  said  : 


THE   FIFTH    READER. 

6.  "  Be  mine  the  liappj  task  by  day 

And  through  the  midnight's  gloom, 
To  toil,  and  still  toil  on,  until 
This  shapeless  mass  assume. 

7.  "  The  form  of  Him  who  on  the  Cross 

For  us  poured  forth  his  blood : 
Thus  man  shall  ever  venerate 
This  relic  of  the  flood. 

8.  "  Though  now  a  witness  to  the  wrath 

Of  the  dread  God  above, 
Changed  by  my  chisel,  it  shall  be 
The  emblem^  of  His  love." 

9.  That  night  when  on  his  pallet  stretched, 

As  slumber  o'er  him  stole, 
A  glorious  vision  brightly  broke 
Upon  his  ravished*  soul. 

10.  He  sees  his  dear  Redeemer  stand 

On  Calvary's  sacred  hight 
The  Crucifixion  is  renewed 
Before  his  awe-struck  sight. 

11.  He  sees  his  Saviour's  pallid  cheek 

With  pitying  tears  impearled, 
He  hears  his  dying  accents  bless 
A  persecuting  world  : 


;^8 


TfJE   FIFTH    RILVDER. 

1 2.  Sees  the  last  look  of  love  supreme 

Conquering  each  aching  sense, 
Superior  to  agony 
Its  deep  benevolence. 

13.  The  matin  has  pealed — the  Monk 

Starts  from  his  brief  repose , 
But  still  before  his  waking  eye 
The  vivid  dream  arose. 

14.  His  morning  orisons'^  are  paid, 

His  hand  the  chisel  wields, 
Slowly  before  the  eager  steel 
The  stubborn  ivory  yields 

15.  The  ancient  block  is  crusted  o'er 

With  a  coating  hard  and  gray, 
But  soon  the  busy  chisel  doffs 
This  mantle  of  decay. 

id.  And  now,  from  every  blemish  freed, 
Upon  his  kindling  eye, 
In  all  its  pristine^  beauty,  dawns 
The  milk-white  ivory. 


*  Mas'-to-don,  a  huge  quadruped, 
now  extinct. 

«  CojM-mtjn'-ing,  holding  conversa- 
tion with. 

«  Em-blkm,  a  picture  or  represen- 


tation imaging  forth  a  truth. 
4  Kav'-ish-eb,    transported    wilk 

delight. 
*  Ob'-i-sons,  prayers. 
^  Peis'-tine,  original. 


Tni    FIFTH   READ  Kit.  89 

VL— THE  IVORY  CRUCIFIX. 

CONTINUED. 

1.  The  sun  arose,  the  sun  went  down, 

Arose,  and   set   again, 
But  still  the  Monk  his  chisel  plies — 
Oh,  must  he  toil  in  vain  ? 

2.  Not  his  the  highly  cultured  touch 

That  bade  the  marble  glow, 
And  with  a  hundred  statues  linked 
The  name  of  Angelo. 

3.  Perchance  some  tiny  image  he 

Had  fashioned  oft  before. 
But  art  had  ne'er  to  him  unveiled 
Her  closely  hoarded  lore. 

4.  A  faithful  hand,  an  eye  possessed 

Of  genius'  inborn  beam, 
Or  inspiration's  loftier  light, 
Must  body  forth  his  dream. 

6.  The  moon  has  filled  her  fickle  orb, 
The  moon  is  on  the  w^ane, 
A  crescent  now  she  sails  the  sky, 
And  now  is  full  again. 

6.  But  bending  o'er  that  Ivory  block 
The  Monk  is  kneeling  there. 
Full  half  his  time  to  toil  is  given, 
And  half  is  spent  in  prayer. 


90  THE  FIFTH   READEll. 

7.  Four  years  elapsed  before  the  Monk 

Threw  his  worn  chisel  by ; 
Complete  at  last  before  him  lies 
The  living  ivory. 

8.  His  dream  at  last  is  bodied  forth,. 

And  to  the  world  is  given 
A  sight  that  well  may  wean  the  soul 
From  earth  awhile  in  heaven. 

9.  The  dying  look  of  love  supreme 

Conquering  each  aching  sense, 
Unquenched  by  burning  pain,  reveals 
Its  vast  benevolence. 

10.  Behold  tliat  violated  cheek 

With  pitying  tears  impearled, 
The  parting  lips  that  seem  to  bless 
A  persecuting  world. 

11.  Has  not  the  light  of  page  inspired 

A  true  reflection  here. 
Does  not  the  sacrifice  of  love 
In  ivory  reappear  ? 

12   Is  not  the  Evangel's  sacred  page 
Translated  here  as  well 
As  any  human  alphabet 
Its  glorious  truths  can  tell  ? 


THE   FIFTH   READ  Eli.  91 

13.  Ye  "who  would  fain  mj  gaze  prevent, 
Conceal  tlie  Gospel  too  : 
The  mystery  recorded  there 
Is  here  but  told  anew. 


Vn.— THE  CHUKGH. 

MACAUIiAY. 

Lord  Macaulay  was  a  gifted  essayist,  and  a  poet  of  no  mean  preten- 
tions. He  is  best  known,  however,  as  the  author  of  a  History  of  Eng- 
land, which  he  did  not  live  to  cr  mplete,  and  which  betrays,  frequently, 
stxong  Anti-Cathohc  prejudices. 

1.  There  is  not,  and  there  never  was,  on  this  earth,  a 
work  of  human  policy  so  well  deserving  of  examination 
as  the  Eoman  Catholic  Church.  The  history  of  that 
Church  joins  together  the  two  great  ages  of  human 
civilization.  No  other  institution  is  left  standing 
which  carries  the  mind  back  to  the  times  when  the 
smoke  of  sacrifice  rose  from  the  Pantheon,  and  when 
camelopards  and  tigers  bounded  in  the  Slavian  amphi- 
theater. 

2.  The  proudest  royal  houses  are  but  of  yesterday, 
when  compared  with  the  line  of  the  Supreme  Pontiffs. 
That  line  we  trace  back  in  an  unbroken  series  from  the 
Pope  who  crowned  Napoleon,  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, to  the  Pope  who  crowned  Pepin  in  the  eighth  ; 
and  far  beyond  the  time  of  Pepin  the  august  dynasty 
extends,  till  it  is  lost  in  the  twilight  of  fable  The  re- 
public of  Venice  came  next  in  antiquity.     But  the  re- 


92  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

public  of  Yenice  was  modern  when  compared  with  the 
Papacy ;  and  the  repubHc  of  Yenice  is  gone,  and  the 
Papacy  remains.  The  Papacy  remains  not  in  decay, 
not  a  mere  antique,  but  full  of  life  and  youthful  vigor. 

o.  The  Catholic  Church  is  still  senduig  forth  to  the 
farther  ends  of  the  world  missionaries  as  zealous  as 
those  who  landed  in  Kent  with  Augustin  ;  and  still  con- 
fronting hostile  kings  with  the  same  spirit  with  which 
she  confronted  Attila.  The  number  of  her  children  is 
greater  than  in  any  former  I'ge.  Her  acquisitions  in 
the  New  "World  have  more  than  compensated  her  for 
what  she  has  lost  in  the  Old.  Her  spiritual  ascen- 
dency extends  over  the  vast  countries  which  lie  be- 
tween the  plains  of  Missouri  and  Cape  Horn ;  coun- 
tries which,  a  century  hence,  may  not  improbably,  con- 
tain a  population  as  large  as  that  which  now  inhabits 
Europe. 

4.  The  members  of  her  community  are  certainly  not 
fewer  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  millions :  and  it  will 
be  difficult  to  show  that  all  the  other  Christian  sects 
united  amount  to  a  hundred  and  twenty  millions.  Nor 
do  we  see  any  sign  which  indicates  that  the  term  of  her 
long  (dominion  is  approaching. 

5.  She  saw  the  commencement  of  all  the  governments 
and  of  all  the  ecclesiastical  establishments  that  now 
exist  in  the  world  ;  and  we  feel  no  assurance  that  she 
is  not  destined  to  see  the  end  of  them  all.  She  was 
great  and  respected  before  the  Saxon  had  set  foot  ou 


THE   FIFTH    RE^VDER.  93 

Britain — before  the  Frank  had  passed  the  Rhine — 
when  Grecian  eloquence  still  flourished  at  Antioch — 
when  idols  were  still  worshiped  in  the  temple  of  Mecca. 
And  she  may  still  exist  in  undiminished  vigor  when 
some  traveler  from  New  Zealand  shall,  in  the  midst  of 
a  vast  solitude,  take  his  stand  on  a  broken  arch  of 
London  bridge  to  sketch  the  ruins  of  St.  Pauls'. 


VnL— THE  OHUECH. —Continued. 

MACAXJIiAY. 

1.  Is  it  not  strange  that  in  the  year  1799  even  saga- 
cious observers  should  have  thought  that  at  length  the 
hour  of  the  Church  of  Eome  had  come  ?  An  infidel 
power  ascendant — the  Pope  dying  in  captivity — the 
most  illustrious  prelates  of  France  living  in  a  foreign 
country  on  Protestant  alms — the  noblest  edifices  which 
the  munificence  of  former  ages  had  consecrated  to  the 
worship  of  God  turned  into  temples  of  victory,  or  into 
banquetting-houses  for  political  societies,  or  into  Theo- 
philanthropic^  chapels — such  signs  might  well  be  sup- 
posed to  indicate  the  approaching  end  of  that  long 
domination. 

2.  But  the  end  was  not  yet.  Again  doomed  to 
death,  the  milk-white  hind  was  fated  not  to  die.  Even 
before  the  funeral  rites  had  been  performed  over  the 
ashes  of  Pius  the  Sixth,  a  great  reaction  had  com- 
menced, which,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  forty  years 


94  THE   FIFTH   REaDEK. 

appears  to  be  still  in  progress.  Anartjhy  had  its  day 
A  new  order  of  things  rose  out  of  confusion — new 
dynasties,  new  laws,  new  titles ;  and  amidst  them 
emerged  the  ancient  religion.  The  Arabs  had  a  fable 
that  the  great  pyramid  was  built  by  the  antediluvian 
kings,  and  alone  of  all  the  works  of  men,  bore  the 
weight  of  the  flood. 

3.  Such  was  the  fall  of  the  Papacy.  Tt  had  been 
buried  under  the  great  inundation,  but  its  deep  founda- 
tions had  remained  unshaken ;  and  when  the  waters 
abated,  it  appeared  alone  amidst  the  ruins  of  a  world 
which  had  passed  away.  The  repubhc  of  Holland  was 
gone,  and  the  empire  of  Germany,  and  the  Great 
Council  of  Venice,  and  the  old  Helvetian  League,  and 
the  House  of  Bourbon,  and  the  ParHaments  and  aristo- 
cracy of  France. 

4.  Europe  was  full  of  young  creations — a  French 
empire,  a  kingdom  of  Italy,  a  Confederation  of  the 
Ehine.  Nor  had  the  late  events  afiected  only  the  ter- 
ritorial limits  and  political  institutions.  The  distribu- 
tion of  property,  the  composition  and  spirit  of  society, 
bad,  through  a  great  part  of  Catholic  Europe,  under- 
gone a  complete  change.  But  the  unchangeable  Church 
was  still  there. 

>  The-o-phi-lan  -throp -ic,  a  title  I  olution.  Their  object  was  to  ch- 
assumed  by  some  persons  in  tablish  infidelity  in  the  place  of 
France  during  the  French  Eev-  I     Christianity. 


•lilE   EII'TH   READER.  95 

IX.  -  -Ox>^  CONVERSATION. 


William  Cowper,  a  distinguished  English  Poet,  was  born  in  1731, 
Rud  ilwl  in  1800.  His  first  volume  of  poems,  published  wnen  he  vvtia 
over  fifty  years  old,  did  not  attract  much  attention.  TJut  his  "Task," 
published  two  years  later,  attained  a  wide  popularity,  and  establishvxi 
bis  position  as  ft  poet. 

Though  Nature  weigh  our  talents,  and  dispense 
To  every  man  his  modicum  of  sense, 
And  conYer&ation,  in  his  better  part, 
Mav  be  esteemed  a  gift,  and  not  an  art, 
Yet  much  depends^  as  in  the  tiller*s  toil, 
On  culture  and  the  sowing  of  the  soil. 
Words  learned  by  rote  a  parrot  may  reh«ais<^. 
But  talking  is  not  alwa-y?  to  converse  ; 
Not  more  distinct  from  harmony  divine, 
The  constant  creaking  of  a  country  sign. 

Ye  powers,  who  rule  the  tongue, — if  znch  th<>r6 
are, — 
And  make  colloquial  happiness  your  care, 
Preserve  me  from  the  thing  I  dread  and  bat* 
A  duel  in  the  form  of  a  debate. 
Vociferated  logic  kills  me  quite  ; 
A  noisy  man  is  always  in  the  right  ; 
I  twirl  my  thumbs,  fall  back  into  my  chair. 
Fix  on  the  wainscot  a  distressful  stare, 
And,  when  I  hope  his  blunders  are  all  out, 
Keply  discreetly,  "  To  be  sure,  no  doubt  !'* 


96  THE    FIFTH   READER. 

Duhius  is  such  a  scrupulous,  good  man  ; 
Yes,  jou  may  catch  him  tripping  if  you  can. 
He  would  not,  with  a  peremptory  tone. 
Assert  the  nose  upon  his  face  his  own  ; 
"With  hesitation  admirably  slow, 
He  humbly  hopes,  presumes ,  it  may  be  so. 
His  evidence,  if  he  were  called  by  law 
To  swear  to  some  enormity  he  saw, 
For  want  of  prominence  and  just  relief, 
Would  hang  an  honest  man,  and  save  a  thief. 
Through  constant  dread  of  giving  truth  offense. 
He  ties  up  all  his  hearers  in  suspense  ; 
Knows  what  he  knows  as  if  he  knew  it  not 
What  he  remembers  seems  to  have  forgot ; 
His  sole  opinion,  whatsoe'er  befall, 
Centering,  at  last,  in  having  none  at  all. 

A  story,  in  which  native  humor  reigns. 
Is  often  useful,  always  entertains  : 
A  graver  fact,  enlisted  on  your  side, 
May  furnish  illustration,  well  applied  : 
But  sedentary  weavers  of  long  tales 
Give  me  the  fidgets,  and  my  patience  fails. 
'Tis  the  most  asinine  employ  on  earth. 
To  hear  them  tell  of  parentage  and  birth, 
And  echo  coversations,  dull  and  dry. 
Embellished  with,  "  He  said,"  and  "  So  said  I." 


THE   FIFTB    HEADER.  SW 

At  every  interview  their  route  the  same, 
The  repetition  makes  attention  lame  : 
We  bustle  up,  with  unsuccesssful  speed. 
And,  in  the  saddest  part,  cry,  "  Droll  indeed  I" 

I  pity  bashful  men,  who  feel  the  pain 
Of  fancied  scorn  and  undeserved  disdain, 
And  bear  the  marks,  upon  a  blushing  face, 
Of  needless  shame,  and  self-imposed  disgrace. 
Our  sensibilities  are  so  acute. 
The  fear  of  being  silent  makes  us  mute,  , 
True  modesty  is  a  discerning  grace. 
And  only  blushes  in  the  proper  place  ; 
But  counterfeit  is  blind,  and  skulks  through  fear, 
Where  'tis  a  shame  to  be  ashamed  t'  appear ; 
HumiHty  the  parent  of  the  first, 
The  last  by  vanity  produced  and  nursed. 

The  circle  formed,  we  sit  in  state, 
Like  figures  drawn  upon  a  dia^  -ulate  ; 
"  Yes,  ma'am,"  and  "  No,  ma'am, '  uttered  softlj 

show. 
Every  five  minutes,  how  the  minutes  go ; 
Each  individual,  suffering  a  constraint 
Poetry  may,  but  colors  cannot  paint, 
As  if  in  close  committee  on  the  sky. 
Reports  it  hot  or  cold,  or  wet  or  dry  ; 
And  finds  a  changing  clime  a  happy  source 
Of  wise  reflection  and  well-timed  discourse. 


THE   FIPPH    HEADER. 

"We  next  inquire,  but  softlj,  and  by  stealth, 

Lite  conservators  of  the  public  health, 

Of  epidemic  throats,  if  such  there  are. 

And    coughs,   and    rheums,    and   phthisics,    and 

catarrh. 
That  theme  exhausted,  a  wide  gap  ensues, 
Filled  up,  at  last,  with  interesting  news. 

And  now,  let  no  man  charge  me  that  I  mean 
To  clothe  in  sable  every  social  scene ; 
To  find  a  medium  asks  some  share  of  wit, 
And  therefore  'tis  a  mark  fools  never  hit. 


X.— THE  DISCONTENTED  PENDULUM. 

JANE   TATLOB. 

1.  An  old  clock,  that  had  stood  for  fifty  years  in  a 
farmer's  kitchen  w'inout  giving  its  owner  any  cause  of 
complaint,  early  one  summer's  morning,  before  the 
family  was  stirring,  suddenly  stopped. 

2.  Upon  this  the  dial-plate,  (if  we  may  credit  the 
fable,)  changed  countenance  with  alarm ;  the  hands 
made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  continue  their  course ;  the 
wheels  remained  motionless  with  surprise  ;  the  weights 
hung  speechless ;  each  member  felt  disposed  to  lay  the 
blame  on  the  others.    At  length  the  dial  instituted  a 


THE   riFJH   EEADER.  99 

formal  ioquirj  as  to  the  cause  of  the  stagnation ;  wheK 
hands,  wheels,  weights,  with  one  voice,  protested  theii 
innocence.  *  But  now  a  faint  tick  was  heard  below,  from 
the  pendulum,  who  thus  spoke  : 

3.  "  I  confess  myself  to  be  the  sole  cause  of  the  pre- 
sent stoppage,  and  am  willing,  for  the  general  satisfac- 
tion, to  assign  my  reasons.  The  truth  is,  that  I  am 
tired  of  ticking.*'  Upon  hearing  this,  the  old  clock  be- 
came so  enraged  that  it  was  on  the  point  of  striking. 

"  Lazy  wire !"  exclaimed  the  dial-plate,  holding  up 
its  hands. 

4.  "  Very  good,"  replied  the  pendulum  ;  "  it  is  vastly 
easy  for  you.  Mistress  Dial,  who  have  always,  as  every- 
body knows,  set  yourself  up  above  me — it  is  vastly  easy 
for  you,  I  say,  to  accuse  other  people  of  laziness ;  you, 
who  have  had  nothing  to  do  all  the  days  of  your  life 
but  to  stare  people  in  the  face,  and  to  amuse  yourself 
with  watching  all  that  goes  on  in  the  kitchen.  Think, 
I  beseech  you,  how  you  would  like  to  be  shut  up  for 
life  in  this  dark  closet,  and  wag  backwards  and  for- 
wards, year  after  year,  as  I  do." 

5.  "  As  to  that,"  said  the  dial,  "  is  there  not  a  win- 
dow in  your  house  on  purpose  for  you  to  look  through?" 

"  For  all  that,"  resumed  the  pendulum,  "  it  is  very 
dark  here  ;  and  although  there  is  a  window,  I  dare  not 
stop,  even  for  an  instant,  to  look  out.  Besides,  I  am 
really  weary  of  my  way  of  life  ;  and  if  you  please,  I'll 
tell  you  how  I  took  this  disgust  at  my  employment 


100  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

This  morning  I  happened  to  be  calculating  how  many 
times  I  should  have  to  tick  in  the  course  only  of  the 
next  twenty-four  hours :  perhaps  some  ot.  you,  above 
there,  can  give  me  the  exact  sum." 

6.  The  minute-hand,  being  quick  at  figures,  instant- 
ly replied,  "  eighty-six  thousand  four  hundred  times." 

"  Exactly  so,"  replied  the  pendulum.  "  Well,  I  ap- 
peal to  you  all  if  the  thought  of  this  was  not  enough  to 
fatigue  one.  And  when  I  began  to  multiply  the  strokes 
of  one  day  by  those  of  months  and  years,  really  it  is  no 
wonder  if  I  felt  discouraged  at  the  prospect :  so,  after 
a  great  deal  of  reasoning  and  hesitation,  thinks  I  to 
myself,  I'll  stop." 

7.  The  dial  could  scarcely  keep  its  countenance  dur- 
ing this  harangue ;  but,  resuming  its  gravity,  thus  re- 
plied : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pendumm,  I  am  really  astonished  that  so 
useful  and  industrious  a  person  as  you  are  should  have 
been  overcome  by  this  sudden  suggestion.  It  is  true 
you  have  done  a  great  deal  of  work  in  your  time.  So 
have  we  all,  and  are  likely  to  do ;  and,  although  this 
may  fatigue  us  to  think  of,  the  question  is,  whether  it 
will  fatigue  us  to  do.  Would  you,  now,  do  me  the  favor 
to  give  about  half-a-dozen  strokes,  to  illustrate  my  ar- 
gument ?" 

8.  The  pendulum  complied,  and  ticked  six  times  at 
its  usual  pace. 

"  Now,"  resumed  the  dial,  "  may  I  be  allowed  to  in- 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  101 

quire,  if  that  exertion  was  at  all  fatiguing  or  disagree- 
able to  you  ?' 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  the  pendulum  ;  "  it  is  not 
of  six  strokes  that  I  complain,  nor  of  sixty,  but  of  mil- 
lions." 

9.  "  Very  good,"  replied  the  dial ;  "  but  recollect  that 
although  you  may  think  of  a  million  strokes  in  an  in- 
stant, you  are  required  to  execute  but  one;  and  that, 
however  often  you  may  hereafter  have  to  swing,  a  mo- 
ment will  always  be  given  you  to  swing  in." 

"That  consideration  staggers  me,  I  confess,"  said 
the  pendulum. 

"Then  I  hope,"  resumed  the  dial-plate,  "we  shall 
all  immediately  return  to  our  duty ;  for  the  maids  will 
lie  in  bed  till  noon  if  we  stand  idling  thus." 

10.  Upon  this,  the  weights,  who  had  never  been  ac- 
cused of  light  conduct,  used  all  their  influence  in  urg- 
ing him  to  proceed ;  when,  as  with  one  consent,  the 
wheels  began  to  turn,  the  hands  began  to  move,  the 
pendulum  began  to  wag,  and,  to  its  credit,  ticked  as 
loud  as  ever;  and  a  beam  of  the  rising  sun  that 
streamed  through  a  hole  in  the  kitchen  shutter,  shining 
full  upon  the  dial-plate,  it  brightened  up  as  if  nothing 
had  been  the  matter. 

11.  When  the  farmer  came  down  to  breakfast  that 
morning,  upon  looking  at  the  clock,  he  declared  that 
his  watch  had  gained  half  an  hour  in  the  night. 


102  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

12.  Moral. — It  is  said  by  a  celebrated  modem  wri- 
ter, "Take  care  of  the  minutes,  and  the  hours  will 
take  care  of  themselves."  This  is  an  admirable  hint, 
and  might  be  very  seasonably  recollected  when  we 
begin  to  be  "  weary  in  well-doing,"  from  the  thought  of 
having  a  great  deal  to  do.  The  present  is  all  we  have 
to  manage :  the  past  is  irrecoverable ;  the  future  is  un- 
certain ;  nor  is  it  fair  to  burden  one  moment  with  the 
weight  of  the  next.  Sufficient  unto  the  moment  is  the 
trouble  thereof.  If  we  had  to  walk  a  hundred  miles, 
we  still  need  set  but  one  step  at  a  time,  and  this  pro- 
cess, continued,  would  infallibly  bring  us  to  our  jour- 
ney's end.  Fatigue  generally  begins,  and  is  always 
increased,  by  calculating  in  a  minute  the  exertion  of 
hours. 

13.  Thus,  in  looking  forward  to  future  life,  let  us 
recollect  that  we  have  not  to  sustain  all  its  toil,  to  en- 
dure all  its  sufferings,  or  encounter  all  its  crosses,  at 
once.  One  moment  comes  laden  with  its  own  little 
burden,  then  flies,  and  is  succeeded  by  another  no 
heavier  than  the  last :  if  one  could  be  sustained,  so  can 
another,  and  another. 

14.  Even  in  looking  forward  to  a  single  day,  the 
spirit  may  sometimes  faint  from  an  anticipation  of  the 
duties,  the  labors,  the  trials  to  temper  and  patience, 
that  may  be  expected.  Now,  this  is  unjustly  laying 
the  burden  of  many  thousand  moments  upon  one. 
Let  any  one  resolve  to  do  right  now,  leaving  then  to 


THE  FIFTH   READER,  103 

flo  as  it  can,  and  if  he  were  to  live  to  the  age  of  Me- 
thuselah, he  would  never  err.  But  the  common  error 
is,  to  resolve  to  act  right  to-morrow,  or  next  time  ;  but 
now,  just  this  once,  we  must  go  on  the  same  as  ever. 

15.  It  seems  easier  to  do  right  to-morrow  than  to- 
day, merely  because  we  forget  that  when  to-morrow 
comes,  then  will  be  now.  Thus  life  passes,  with  many, 
in  resolutions  for  the  future  which  the  present  never 
fulfills. 

16.  It  is  not  thus  with  those  who,  "  by  patient  con- 
tinuance in  well-doing,  seek  for  glory,  honor,  and  im- 
mortality." Day  by  day,  minute  by  minute,  they  exe- 
cute the  appointed  task  to  which  the  requisite  measure 
of  time  and  strength  is  proportioned :  and  thus,  hav- 
ing worked  while  it  was  called  day,  they  at  length  rest 
from  their  labors,  and  their  works  "  follow  them." 

17.  Let  us,  then,  "  whatever  our  hands  find  to  do,  do 
it  with  all  our  might,"  recollecting  thai  now  is  the 
proper  and  accepted  time. 


XI.— THE  OLD  CLOCK  ON  THE  STAIRS. 

LONGFELLOW. 

1.  Somewhat  back  from  the  village  street 
Stands  the  old-fashioned  country-seat ; 
Across  its  antique  portico, 
Tall  poplar- trees  their  shadows  throw  ; 


104  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

And  fi'om  its  station  in  the  hall, 
An  ancient  timepiece  says  to  all, — 

"  Forever — never ! 

Never — forever !" 

2.  Halfway  up  the  stairs  it  stands, 

And  points  and  beckons  with  its  hands 
From  its  case  of  massive  oak, 
Like  a  monk,  who,  under  his  cloak, 
Crosses  himself,  and  sighs,  alas  ! 
•   With  sorrowful  voice  to  all  that  pass, — 

"  Forever — never  ! 

Never — forever  I" 

3.  By  day  its  voice  is  low  and  light ; 
But  in  the  silent  dead  of  night. 
Distinct  as  a  passing  footstep's  fall, 
It  echoes  along  the  vacant  haU, 
Along  the  ceiling,  along  the  floor. 

And  seems  to  say,  at  each  chamber  door,— 

"  Forever — never  ! 

Never — forever.' 
L  Through  days  of  sorrow  and  of  mirth. 
Through  days  of  death  and  days  of  birth. 
Through  every  swift  vicissitude 
Of  changeful  time,  unchanged  it  has  stood, 
And  as  if,  like  God,  it  all  things  saw, 
It  calmly  repeats  those  words  of  awe, — 

"  Forever — never  ! 

Never — forever !" 


THE   FIFl'H   READER.  105 

5.  In  that  mansion  used  to  be 
Free-hearted  hospitality ; 

His  great  fires  up  the  chimney  roared  : 
The  stranger  feasted  at  his  board  ; 
But,  like  the  skeleton  at  the  feast, 
That  warning  timepiece  never  ceased, — 

"  Forever — never ! 

Never  — forever !" 

6.  There  groups  of  merry  children  played ; 
There  youths  and  maidens  dreaming  strayed. 
O  precious  hours  !  O  golden  prime. 

And  affluence  of  love  and  time ! 

Even  as  a  miser  counts  his  gold. 

Those  hours  the  ancient  timepiece  told, — 

"  Forever— never ! 

Never — forever !" 

7.  From  that  chamber,  clothed  in  white. 

The  bride  came  forth  on  her  wedding  night ; 
There,  in  that  silent  room  below. 
The  dead  lay  in  his  shroud  of  snow  ; 
And  in  the  hush  that  followed  prayer, 
Was  heard  that  old  clock  on  the  stair,*  - 

"  Forever — never  ! 

Never — forever  !" 

8.  All  are  scattered  now  and  fled, 
Some  are  married,  some  are  dead  ; 
And  when  I  ask,  with  throbs  ol  pain, 

"  Ah  !  when  shall  they  all  meet  again  ?" 


106  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

As  Id  tlie  days  long  since  gone  by, 
The  ancient  timepiece  makes  reply, — 

"  Forever — never  I 

Never— forever  I" 

9.  Never  here,  forever  there, 

Where  all  parting,  pain  and  care, 
And  death  and  time  shall  disappear,- 
Forever  there,  but  never  here  I 
The  horologe  of  eternity 
Sayeth  this  incessantly, — 

"  Forever — never  1 

Never — forever  I" 


Xn.— RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


The  following  extract  is  from  "  Rip  Van  "Winkle,"  one  of  the  papers 
in  "  The  Sketch  Book."  Rip  is  an  indolent,  good-humored  fellow, 
living  in  a  village  on  the  Hudson  Rivei.  vVhile  shooting  among  the 
Catskill  Mountains,  he  meets  with  a  mysterious  party  engaged  in  roll- 
ing  ninepins,  drinks  deeply  of  the  Uquor  they  furnish  him,  and  falls 
into  a  sleep  which  lasts  twenty  years,  during  which  our  Revolutionary 
War  takes  place.  After  waking,  he  returns  to  the  village,  which  Ua 
finds  busied  with  an  election. 

1 .  He  now  hurried  forth,  and  hastened  to  his  old  r(;- 
sort,  the  village  inn — but  it  too  was  gone.  A  large, 
rickety  wooden  building  stood  in  its  place,  with  great 
gaping  windows,  some  of  them  broken,  and  mended 
with  old  hats  and  petticoats,  and  over  the  door  was 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  107 

painted,  ''  The  Union  Hotel,  by  Jonathan  Doolittle.' 
Instead  of  the  great  tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet 
little  Dutch  inn  of  yore,  there  now  was  reared  a  tall 
naked  pole,  with  something  on  the  top  that  looked  like 
a  red  nightcap,  and  from  it  was  flattering  a  flag,  on 
which  was  a  singular  assemblage  of  stars  and  stripes — 
all  this  was  strange  and  incomprehensible. 

2.  He  recognized  on  the  sign,  however,  the  ruby  face 
of  King  George,  under  which  he  had  smoked  so  many 
a  peaceful  pipe  ;  but  even  this  was  singularly  metam- 
orphosed. The  red  coat  was  changed  for  one  of  blue 
and  buff,  a  sword  was  held  in  the  hand  instead  of  a 
scepter,  the  head  was  decorated  with  a  cocked  hat, 
and  underneath  was  painted  in  large  characters,  Gen- 
eral Washington. 

3.  There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  about  the  door,  but 
none  that  Eip  recollected.  The  very  character  of  the 
people  seemed  changed.  There  was  a  busy,  bustling, 
disputatious  tone  about  it,  instead  of  the  accustomed 
phlegm  and  drowsy  tranquillity. 

4.  He  looked  in  vain  for  the  sage  Nicholas  Vedder, 
with  his  broad  face,  double  chin,  and  fair  loDg  pipe, 
uttering  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke  instead  of  idle 
speeches;  or  Van-Bummel,  the  schoolmaster,  doling? 
forth  the  contents  of  an  ancient  newspaper  In  place 
of  these,  a  lean,  bilious  looking  fellow,  with  his  pockets 
fall  of  handbills,  was  haranguing  vehemently,  about 
rghts  of   citizens — elections — members  of  congress — 


108  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

liberty — Bunker's  hill  —  heroes  of  severtfcy-six  —  aod 
other  words,  which  were  a  perfect  Babylonish  jargon 
to  the  bewildered  Van  Winkle. 

5.  The  appearance  of  Rip,  with  his  long  grizzled 
beard,  his  rusty  fowling-piece,  his  uncouth  dress,  and 
an  army  of  women  and  children  at  his  heels,  soon  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  tavern  politicians.  They 
crowded  round  him,  eyeing  him  from  head  to  foot  with 
great  curiosity.  The  orator  bustled  up  to  him,  and, 
drawing  him  partly  aside,  inquired  "  on  which  side  he 
voted?" 

6.  Rip  stared  in  vacant  stupidity.  Another  short 
but  busy  httle  fellow  pulled  him  by  the  arm,  and  rising 
on  tiptoe,  inquired  in  his  ear,  "  whether  he  was  Federal 
or  Democrat  ?  "  Rip  was  equally  at  a  loss  to  compre- 
hend the  question ;  when  a  knowing,  self-important  old 
gentleman,  in  a  sharp  cocked  hat,  made  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  putting  them  to  the  right  and  left  with  his 
elbows  as  he  passed,  and  planting  himself  before  Van 
Winkle,  with  one  arm  akimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his 
cane,  his  keen  eyes  and  sharp  hat  penetrating,  as  it 
were,  into  his  very  soul,  demanded,  in  an  austere  tone, 
"  what  brought  him  to  the  election  with  a  gun  on  his 
shoulder,  and  a  mob  at  his  heels,  and  whether  he 
meant  to  breed  a  riot  in  the  village  ?  " 

7.  "Alas!  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip,  somewhat  dismayed, 
"  I  am  a  poor  quiet  man,  a  native  of  the  pl^ce,  and  a 
loyal  subject  of  the  King,  God  bless  him  !  " 


THE   FIFTH    READi:K.  109 

Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  by-standers-  - 
"  A  tory !  a  tory !  a  spy  !  a  refugee  !  hustle  him  !  away 
with  him  ! "  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  self- 
important  man  in  the  cocked  hat  restored  order  ;  and, 
having  assumed  a  tenfold  austerity  of  brow,  demanded 
again  of  the  unknown  culprit,  what  he  came  there  for, 
and  whom  he  was  seeking. 

8.  The  poor  man  humbly  assured  him  that  he  meant 
no  harm,  but  merely  came  there  in  search  of  some  pf 
his  neighbors,  who  used  to  keep  about  the  tavern. 

"  Well — who  are  they  ? — name  them." 
Eip  bethought  himself   a   moment,   and  inquired, 
"  Where's  Nicholas  Yedder  ?  " 

9.  There  was  a  silence  for  a  Httle  while,  when  an  old 
man  replied,  in  a  thin,  piping  voice,  "  Nicholas  V^- 
der !  why,  he's  dead  and  gone  these  eighteen  years ! 
There  was  a  wooden  tombstone  in  the  church-yard 
that  used  to  tell  all  about  him,  but  that's  rotten  and 
gone  too." 

10.  "  Where's  Brom  Dutcher  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  went  off  to  the  army  in  the  begioning  of 
the  war ;  some  say  he  was  killed  at  the  storming  of 
Stony  Point — others  say  he  was  drowned  in  a  squall 
at  the  foot  of  Antony's  Nose.  I  don't  know — he  never 
came  back  again." 

"  Where's  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster  ?  '* 
"  He  went  off  to  the  wars  too,  was  a  great  militia 
general,  and  is  now  in  Congross." 


110  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

11.  Pvip's  heart  died  away  at  hearing  of  these  sad 
changes  in  his  home  and  friends,  and  finding  himself 
thus  alone  in  the  world.  Every  answer  puzzled  him, 
too,  by  treating  of  such  enormous  lapses  of  time,  and 
of  matters  which  he  could  not  understand  :  war — 
Congress — Stony  Point; — he  had  no  courage  to  ask 
after  any  more  friends,  but  cried  out  in  despair,  "  Does 
nobody  here  know  Eip  Yan  Winkle?  " 

"  Oh,  Eip  Van  Winkle !  "  exclaimed  two  or  thiRse. 
•*  Oh,  to  be  sure !  that's  Bip  Van  Winlde  yonder,  lean- 
ing against  the  tree." 

12.  Eip  looked,  and  beheld  a  precise  counterpart  of 
himself  as  he  went  up  the  mountain,  apparently  as  lazy, 
and  certainly  as  ragged.  The  poor  fellow  was  now 
completely  confounded.  He  doubted  his  own  identity, 
and  whether  he  was  himself  or  another  man.  In  the 
midst  of  his  bewilderment,  the  man  in  the  cocked  hat 
demanded  who  he  was,  and  what  was  his  name  ? 

13.  "  God  knows,"  exclaimed  he,  at  his  wit's  end  : 
*'  I'm  not  myself — I'm  somebody  else — that's  me  yon- 
der— no  --that's  somebody  else  got  into  my  shoes — I 
was  myseK  last  night,  but  I  fell  asleep  on  the  moun- 
tain, and  they've  changed  my  gun,  and  everything's 
changed,  and  I'm  changed,  and  I  can't  tell  what's  my 
name,  or  who  I  am  !  " 

14.  The  by-standers  began  now  to  look  at  each  other, 
nod,  wink  significantly,  and  tap  their  fingers  against 
their  foreheads.     There  was  a  whisper,  also,  about  se- 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  Ill 

curing  the  gun,  and  keeping  the  old  fellow  from  doing 
misclii<^f,  at  the  very  suggestion  of  which  the  self-im- 
portant man  in  the  cocked  hat  retired  with  some  pre- 
cipitation. 

15.  At  this  critical  moment  a  fresh,  comely  woman 
pressed  through  the  throng  to  get  a  peep  at  the  gray- 
bearded  man.  She  had  a  chubby  child  it  her  arms, 
which,  frightened  at  his  looks,  began  to  cry.  "  Hush, 
Hip,"  cried  she,  "  hush,  you  little  fool ;  the  old  man 
won't  hurt  you."  The  name  of  the  child,  the  air  of  the 
mother,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  all  awakened  a  train  of 
recollections  in  his  mind.  "  What  is  your  name,  my 
good  woman  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Judith  Gardenier." 

"  And  your  father's  name  ?  '' 

"  Ah,  poor  man.  Rip  Yau  Winkle  was  his  name ;  but 
it's  twenty  years  since  he  went  away  from  home  with 
his  gun,  and  never  has  been  heard  of  since. — His  dog 
came  home  without  him ;  but  whether  he  shot  himself, 
or  was  carried  away  by  the  Indians,  nobody  can  tell. 
I  was  then  but  a  little  girl." 

16.  The  honest  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 
He  caught  his  daughter  and  her  child  in  his  arms.  "  I 
am  your  father  !  "  cried  he, — "  young  Rip  Van  Winkle 
once,  old  Rip  Van  Winkle  now  !— Does  nobody  know 
poor  Rip  Van  Winkle  ?  " 

17.  All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  trotting 
out  from  among  the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow, 


112  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

and  peering  under  it  in  his  face  for  a  moment,  ex- 
claimed, "  Sure  enough  !  it  is  Eip  Van  Winkle — it  is 
himself !  "Welcome  home  again,  old  neighbor.  Why, 
"where  have  you  been  these  twenty  long  years  ?  " 

18.  Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty 
years  had  been  to  him  as  but  one  night.  The  neigh- 
bors stared  when  they  heard  it ;  some  were  seen  to 
wink  at  each  other,  and  put  their  tongues  in  their 
cheeks  :  and  the  self-important  man  in  the  cocked  hat, 
who,  when  the  alarm  was  over,  had  returned  to  the 
field,  screwed  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and 
shook  his  head — upon  which  there  was  a  general  shak- 
of  the  head  throughout  the  assemblage. 

19.  It  was  determined,  however,  to  take  the  opinion 
of  old  Peter  Yanderdonk,  who  was  seen  slowly  advancing 
up  the  road.  He  was  a  descendant  of  the  historian  of 
that  name,  who  wrote  one  of  the  earliest  accounts  of 
that  province.  Peter  was  the  most  ancient  inhabitant 
of  the  village,  and  well  versed  in  all  the  wonderful 
events  and  traditions  of  the  neighborhood. 

20.  He  recollected  Eip  at  once,  and  corroborated  his 
story  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner.  He  assured  the 
company  that  it  was  a  fact,  handed  down  from  his  an- 
cestor the  historian,  that  the  Kaatskill  Mountains  had 
always  been  haunted  by  strange  beings.  That  it  was 
affirmed  that  the  great  Hendrick  Hudson,  the  first  dis- 
coverer of  the  river  and  country,  kept  a  kind  of  vigiJ 
there  every  twenty  years,  with  his  crew  of  the  Half- 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  113 

moon  ;  beiag  permitted  in  this  way  to  revisit  the  scenes 
of  his  enterprise,  and  keep  a  guardian  eye  upon  the 
river,  and  the  great  city  called  by  his  name.  That  his 
father  had  once  seen  them  in  their  old  Dutch  dresses 
playing  at  ninepins  in  a  hollow  of  the  mountain ;  and 
that  he  himself  had  heard,  one  summer  afternoon,  the 
sound  of  their  balls,  like  distant  peals  of  thunder. 

21.  To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  company  broke 
up,  and  returned  to  the  more  important  concerns  of 
the  election.  Bip's  daughter  took  him  home  to  live 
with  her  ;  she  had  a  snug,  well-furnished  house,  and  a 
stout  cheery  farmer  for  a  husband,  whom  Bip  recol- 
lected for  one  of  the  urchins  that  used  to  climb  upon 
his  back.  As  to  Bip's  son  and  heir,  who  was  the  ditto 
of  himself,  seen  leaning  against  the  tree,  he  was  em- 
ployed to  work  on  the  farm  ;  but  evinced  an  hereditary 
disposition  to  attend  to  anything  else  but  his  business. 

22.  Bip  now  resumed  his  old  walks  and  habits  :  he 
soon  found  many  of  his  former  cronies,  though  all 
rather  the  worse  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  time  ;  and 
preferred  making  friends  among  the  rising  generation, 
with  whom  he  soon  grew  into  great  favor. 

23.  Having  nothing  to  do  at  home,  and  being  arrived 
at  that  happy  age  when  a  man  can  be  idle  with  impu- 
nity, he  took  his  place  once  more  on  the  bench  at  the 
inn  door,  and  was  reverenced  as  one  of  the  patriarchs 
of  the  village,  and  a  chronicle  of  the  old  times  "  before 
the  war." 


114  THE  FTFTH   READER. 

24.  It  was  some  time  before  lie  could  get  into  the  re- 
gular track  of  gossip,  or  could  be  made  to  comprehend 
the  strange  events  that  had  taken  place  during  his  tor- 
por. How  that  there  had  been  a  revolutionary  war — 
that  the  country  had  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  old  Eng- 
land— and  that,  instead  of  being  a  subject  of  his  Majes- 
tj  George  the  Third,  he  was  now  a  free  citizen  of  the 
United  States.  Eip,  in  fact,  was  no  politician:  the 
changes  of  states  and  empires  made  but  little  impres- 
sion on  him. 

25.  He  used  to  tell  his  story  to  every  stranger  that 
arrived  at  Mr.  Doolittle's  hotel.  He  was  observed,  at 
first,  to  vary  on  some  points  every  time  he  told  it, 
which  was,  doubtless,  owing  to  his  having  so  recently 
awaked.  Tt  at  last  settled  down  precisely  to  the  tale  I 
have  related,  and  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  Lq  the 
neighborhood,  but  knew  it  by  heart.  Some  always 
pretended  to  doubt  the  reality  of  it,  and  insisted  that 
Bip  had  been  out  of  his  head,  and  that  this  was  one 
point  on  which  he  always  remained  flighty.  The  old 
Dutch  inhabitants,  however,  almost  universally  gave  it 
full  credit. 

26.  Even  to  this  day  they  never  hear  a  thunder-storm 
of  a  summer  afternoon  about  the  Kaatskill,  but  they 
say  Hendrick  Hudson  and  his  crew  are  at  their  game 
of  ninepins ;  and  it  is  a  common  wish  of  all  hen-pecked 
husbands  in  the  neighborhood,  when  life  hangs  heavy 


THE   FITTIi    REA.DEK,  115 

on  their  hands,  that  they  might  have  a  quieting  draught 
out  of  Eip  Yan  Winkle's  flagon. 


XIIL— TO  A  WATER-FOWL. 

BEYANT. 

1.  Whither,  midst  falling  dew, 

While  glow  the  heavens  with  the  last  steps  of  day 
Far  through  their  rosy  depths  dost  thou  pursue 
Thy  solitary  way  ? 

2.  Vainly  the  fowler's  eye 

Might  mark  thy  distant  flight  to  do  thee  wrong, 
As,  darkly  painted  on  the  crimson  sky, 
Thy  figure  floats  along. 

3.  Seek'st  thou  the  plashy  brink 
Of  weedy  lake,  or  marge  of  river  wide, 

Or  where  the  rocking  billows  rise  and  sink 
On  the  chafed  ocean  side  ? 

i.  There  is  a  power  whose  care 

Teaches  thy  way  along  that  pathless  coast — 
The  desert  and  illimitable  air — 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost. 

5.  All  day  thy  wings  have  fanned. 

At  that  far  height,  the  cold,  thin  atmosphere. 
Tot  stoop  not,  weary,  to  the  welcome  land, 
Though  the  dark  night  is  near. 


IIG  THE   FIFTH   READElv. 

G.  And  soon  that  toil  shall  end ; 

Soon  shalt  thou  find  a  summer  home,  and  rest, 
And  scream  among  thy  fellows ;  reeds  shall  bend 
Soon  o'er  thy  sheltered  nest. 

7.  Thou'rt  gone ;  the  abyss  ol  heaven 
Hath  swallowed  up  thy  form ;  yet,  on  my  heart 
Deeply  hath  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given, 

And  shall  not  soon  depart. 

8.  He  who,  from  zone  to  zone. 

Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone 
Will  lead  my  steps  aright. 


XIV.— TEUE  FRATERNITY  PRODUCED  ONLY  BY  OATHOLiU 
FAITH  OR  TEACHING. 

LACOKDAIEB. 

Catholic  doctrine  is  the  only  doctrine  which  has  pro- 
duced, and  which  produces,  the  charity  of  apostleship. 
This  I  proved  in  my  last  Conference.  I  add,  that  Ca- 
tholic doctrine  alone  produces  the  charity  of  fraternity. 
iVaternity  is  the  reciprocal^  sharing  of  the  heart,  of 
labor,  and  of  possessions;  and  it  seems,  gentlemen, 
that  that  virtue  should  flow  in  us  by  a  source  as  simple 
and  as  natural  as  our  life.  For,  in  fact,  what  are  we  ? 
Are  we  not  members  of  one  and  the  same  family ;  the 
children  of  one  and  the  same  father,  and  of  one  singlu 


THE    Firni    KKADEPi.  117 

home  ?  In  vain  should  we  desire  to  destroy  the  pages 
of  our  genealogy  -^  all,  without  exception,  all  of  us 
come  from  the  same  place ;  and,  whilst  pride,  without 
regarding  the  human  race,  makes  up  for  itself  illustrious 
and  particular  antiquities,  the  blood  of  Adam  speaks 
in  us  louder  than  any  titles,  and  prostrates  us  all  at  the 
feet  of  the  same  patriarch  as  at  the  feet  of  the  same 
God. 

2.  Yet,  notwithstanding  that  evident  community  of 
origin,  and  that  fraternity  which  nature  has  placed  in 
us,  what  a  scene  does  history  present  to  us,  if  we  con- 
sider it  without  reference  to  Catholic  doctrine  ?  Races, 
enemies  to  each  other;  families  withdrawing  them- 
selves as  far  as  possible  the  one  from  the  other  by  rank, 
power,  and  tradition ;  men,  greedy  of  this  world's  pos- 
sessions, and  seizing  upon  the  land,  not  as  the  real  pa- 
trimony of  all,  but  as  the  privileged  patrimony  of  the 
strongest,  the  most  skillful  and  the  most  fortunate  ;  on 
every  side  war,  jealousy,  envy,  spoliation,  the  elevation 
of  a  few,  and  the  misery  of  many. 

3.  However,  gentlemen,  it  is  not  the  same  with  re- 
gard to  fraternity  as  to  humility,  chastity,  and  apostle- 
ship.  The  world,  which  rejects  these  even  after  the  re- 
velation which  has  been  made  of  them,  does  not  equally 
reject  the  other ;  a  great  number  appreciate'  it  now, 
even  without  the  pale  of  Catholic  doctrine  ;  and  if  there 
be  a  dream  cherished  by  elevated  souls,  if  there  be  an 
Idea  which  agitates  opinion,  which   inspires  brilliant 


118  THE   FIFTH   RE.U)EE. 

pages  and  consecrates  great  labors,  it  is  assuredly  the 
idea  of  fraternity. 

4.  Whilst  the  world  insults  humility  as  a  virtue  which 
harasses  it ;  rejects  chastity  as  an  intolerable  burden  ; 
stigmatizes  the  apostleship  as  an  invasion  of  truth,  or 
of  that  which  calls  itself  truth ;  fraternity  finds  th^re 
warm  and  generous  friends,  who  even  exaggerate*  its 
rights ;  who  err  as  to  the  means  of  establishing  it ;  but 
who  proclaim  it  as  the  last  object  and  end  of  all  his- 
tory, and  of  all  the  movements  of  mankind.  The  spec- 
tacle to  which  we  invite  you  will  be  still  more  curious 
and  instructive.  It  will  be  grand  to  see,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  world  pursuing  the  same  idea  as  ourselves, 
powerless  to  realize  it,  notwithstanding  its  efforts ;  and, 
on  the  other.  Catholic  doctrine  daily  attaining  its  fra- 
ternal objects  by  the  simple  eflusion  of  its  teaching, 
and  of  its  ordinary  efficacy. 

5.  In  the  year  of  Rome  680,  under  the  consulship  of 
Marcus  Terentius  Varro  LucuUus,  and  facing  the  sea 
of  Naples,  two  or  three  hundred  men  were  assembled. 
They  bore  strongly-marked  traces  of  our  common 
dignity ;  and  yet  it  was  not  necessary  to  look  long 
upon  them  to  discover  also  in  their  whole  being  the 
marks,  too  visible,  of  a  painful  degradation^.  In  the 
midst  of  the  general  silence,  one  of  them  stood  up  and 
addressed  his  discourse  to  those  who  were  assembled  : 

6.  "  Dear  and  miserable  companions  in  misfortune, 
have  we  determined  to  bear  even  to  the  end  the  injuries 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  119 

of  the  lot  which  has  beeu  made  for  us  ?  Humanity  ex- 
ists not  for  us;  outcasts  from  the  world,  grasped  from 
our  earliest  days  by  the  iron  hand  of  destiny,  we  have 
up  to  this  time  only  served  to  amuse  our  masters  by 
barbarous  specte,cles,  or  by  our  labors  to  feed  their  os- 
tentatious ^  pomp,  their  effeminacy,  or  their  voluptu- 
ousness.^ It  is  true  we  have  fled — we  are  free — but  you 
feel  that  that  liberty  is  still  only  servitude ;  the  whole 
empire,  the  whole  world  is  against  us  ;  we  have  no 
friends,  no  country,  no  home.  But  do  we  want  other 
friends,  another  country,  another  home  than  our- 
selves? Let  us  consider  who  we  are,  and  first  count  our 
strength.  Are  we  not  the  greater  number  ?  What  are 
our  masters?  A  handful  of  patricians,  whose  houses 
we  people,  who  breathe  only  because  we  have  not  the 
courage  to  put  our  hands  upon  their  breasts  to  stifle 
them.  And  if  it  be  as  I  say,  if  we  have  the  power  of 
the  greater  number,  if  nearly  the  whole  of  mankind  be 
enslaved  to  a  horde  enjoying  all  and  abusing  every- 
thing, what  hinders  us  from  at  once  standing  up  and 
stretching  out  our  hand  in  the  world,  and  from  asking 
the  gods  to  decide  between  us  and  our  oppressors  ? 
We  have  not  only  numbers,  we  have  intelligence  also  ; 
many  of  us  have  taught  their  masters,  or  teach  their 
children,  human  learning ;  we  know  what  they  know, 
and  that  which  they  know  they  derive  from  us ;  it  is 
we  who  are  their  grammarians,  their  philosophers,  and 
who  have  taught  them  that  eloquence  wliich  they  bear 


120  THE   FIFTH   READEK. 

to  the  forum,  in  order  to  oppress  the  whole  world,  Jn 
fine,  we  have  more  than  number  and  intelligence  ;  we 
have  right  on  our  side,  for  who  has  made  us  slaves  ? — 
Where  is  the  title  of  our  servitude  and  of  their  sover- 
eignty ?  ®  If  it  be  war,  let  us  make  war  in  our  turn  ; 
let  us  for  once  try  destiny,  and  let  us  merit  by  our 
courage,  that  destiny  may  decide  in  our  favor." 

7.  Having  thus  spoken,  Spartacus  stretched  out  his 
hand  toward  heaven  and  toward  the  sea ;  his  action 
completed  his  discourse  ;  the  crowd  who  had  listened 
to  him  rose  up,  felt  that  they  had  a  captain,  and  eight 
days  after,  forty  thousand  slaves  ranged  in  battle  array 
made  the  Roman  generals  turn  their  backs,  stirred  up 
from  one  end  to  the  other,  and  saw  themselves,  like 
Hannibal,  on  the  point  of  seeing  the  smoke  of  Rome 
as  victors. 

8.  They  were  vanquished,  however,  notwithstand- 
ing their  numbers  and  their  courage ;  and  Pompey 
coming  to  put  the  seal  upon  their  defeat,  had  but  to 
write  a  few  lines  to  the  Senate,  to  inform  it  that  the 
vile  slaves,  in  the  moment  of  terror,  had  returned  to 
their  legitimate  nothingness. 

9.  Such  was  the  state  of  the  world  some  years  be- 
fore the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ.  A  large  portion  of 
mankind  had  neither  country,  nor  family,  nor  rights ; 
they  were  inscribed  in  the  law  under  the  rubric^  of 
things,  and  not  of  men.  They  were  treated  as  a  more 
btelligent,  stronger  race  of  animals,  but  who  had  no 


THE   FIFTH   ItEADEK.  121 

oihor  distinction  than  being  more  apt  to  a  profitable 
servitude.  I  could,  for  my  subject,  limit  myself  to  the 
fact,  and  say  to  you :  See  what  man  had  made  of  man 
in  four  thousand  years  ;  see  what  fraternity  was  before 
Jesus  Christ.  But  it  will  not  be  unprofitable,  if  after 
having  seen  the  fact  we  seek  to  discover  its  cause,  in 
order  better  to  comprehend  the  grandeur  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  revolution  operated  in  the  world  in  this  re- 
gard by  Catholic  doctrine. 

10.  It  is  then,  gentlemen,  since  you  desire  to  know 
the  cause  of  servitude,  it  is  because  man  does  not  love 
man  ;  because  he  does  not  love  labor  ;  because  he  does 
not  Hke  to  share  his  goods ;  because,  in  fine,  he  Hkes 
nothing  of  that  which  constitutes  fraternity.  *  *  *  * 

11.  What  does  man  see  around  himself?  Men  not 
only  deprived  of  the  grace  and  the  majesty  of  their 
nature,  but  disfigured  by  toil,  degraded  by  numberless 
evils,  in  whom  the  eye  no  longer  perceives  anything 
but  a  kind  of  machine  which  moves.  And  if  we  leave 
the  body  and  penetrate  even  to  the  soul,  misery  and 
shame  become  disclosed  there  under  still  more  pro- 
found appearances,  which  *ho  longer  keep  back  scorn 
by  pity.  Pride  without  cause,  ambition,  selfishness, 
hatred,  sensuality — all  the  vices  contend  for  that  inte- 
rior visage  of  man,  and  aspire  to  dishonor  it.  What  is 
there  left  for  love  ?  To  what  vestige  of  beauty  will 
man  attach  himself  in  order  to  love  man  and  share 


122  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

with  him  Hke  a  brother  the  pains  of  toil  and  the  joj  of 
poasessions  ? 

12.  Man  does  not  love  labor.  He  loves  only  the 
activity  which  flatters  pride  and  cheats  weariness. 
Pascal  remarked  this :  "  A  man,"  said  he,  "  considers 
himself  unfortunate  because  a  misfortune  has  thrown 
him  into  a  magnificent  chateau,  where,  surrounded  by 
all  kinds  of  enjoyments  and  distinctions,  nothing  is 
wanting  to  him  but  a  crowd  of  solicitors  who  hinder 
him  from  thinking  of  himself."  This  is  true ;  we  love 
activity,  but  a  kind  of  activity  which  is  easy  and 
honored,  which,  according  to  the  expression  of  Ma- 
dame de  Stael,  adds  an  interest  to  repose,  and,  without 
fatiguing  us,  gives  us  the  satisfaction  of  holding  and 
affecting  the  threads  of  this  world.  It  is  the  indolent 
activity  of  command  which  seduces  us  :  but  as  soon  as 
there  is  any  real  fatigue  of  mind  or  body,  we  strive  to 
throw  it  upon  others  as  much  as  we  can.  Labor  is  a 
penalty.  It  was  imposed  upon  man  when  God  drove 
him  from  the  terrestrial  paradise  with  this  sentence  : 
"  In  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  shalt  thou  eat  bread"  In  re- 
jecting it  we  do  but  reject  a^ punishment,  and  in  order 
to  accept  it  when  love  is  wanting  to  us,  nothing  less 
than  the  full  power  of  necessity  must  be  exercised 
upon  us.  Now,  man  wants  love  with  regard  to  man, 
and  the  dislike  to  labor,  combined  with  its  necessity, 
unceasingly  inspires  him  with  the  idea  and  the  tempta- 
tion of  imposing  servitude  on  others.     How  far,  then, 


THE   FIFTH   llEADEll. 


123 


is  he  from  the  fraternity  which  is  the  reciprocal  shar- 
ing of  the  heart,  of  labor,  and  of  possessions  ? 


>  Re-cip'-ko-cal,  mutually  inter- 
changeable ;  acting  in  return. 

« GEN'-E-Aii'-o-GT,  history  of  de- 
scents ;  pedigree  ;  lineage. 

'  Ap-pke'-ci-ate,  to  estimate  pro- 
perly. 

*  Ex-aq'-geb-ate,  to  overstate. 

•  Deg'-ba-da'-tion,      debasement ; 

degeneracy. 


c  Os-ten-ta'-tious,  gaudy  ;  showy, 
pretentious. 

7  Vo-ltjpt'-u-ous-ness,  sensuality  ; 

luxuriousness. 

8  Sov'-ER  EiGNTX,   excrcise    of  su- 

preme power. 

9  Ku'-BKic,   a    printed    direction ; 

(here  it  means)  a  classification* 


XV.-CONTKOL  OF  THE  TEMPER. 


HENBY  GILES. 


1.  Who  is  he  that  says  he  cannot  help  being  angry, 
or  sullen,  or  peevish  ?  I  tell  him  he  deceives  himself. 
We  constantly  avoid  being  so,  when  our  interest  or 
decorum  requires  it,  when  we  feel  near  those  whom  we 
know  are  not  bound  to  bear  our  whims,  or  who  will  re- 
sent them  to  our  injury ;  but  what  strangers  will  not 
endure,  we  cast  upon  our  friends.  That  temper  can 
be  corrected,  the  world  proves  by  thousands  of  in- 
stances. There  have  been  those  w^ho  set  out  in  life 
with  being  violent,  peevish,  discontented,  irritable,  and 
capricious,  whom  thought,  reflection,  effort,  not  tc 
speak  of  piet}-,  have  rendered,  as  they  become  mature 
meek,  peaceful,  loving,  generous,  forbearing,  tranquil 
and  consistent.  It  is  a  glorious  achievement,  an^l 
blessed  is  he  who  attains  it. 


124  THE   FIFTH   KEADEK. 

2.  But  taking  the  argument  to  lower  ground,  which 
I  do  unwillingly,  you  continually  see  men  controlling 
their  emotions  when  their  interest  commands  it.  Ob- 
serve the  man  who  wants  assistance,  who  looks  for 
patronage ;  how  well,  as  he  perceives  coldness  or  hesi- 
tation, does  he  crush  the  vexation  that  rises  in  his 
throat,  and  stifles  the  indignation  that  burns  for  ex- 
pression !  How  will  the  most  proud  and  lofty  descend 
from  their  high  position,  and  lay  aside  their  ordinary 
bearing,  to  earn  a  suffrage  from  the  meanest  kind! 
And  surely  those  who  hang  around  us  in  life,  those 
who  lean  on  us,  or  on  whom  we  lean  through  our  pil- 
grimage, to  whom  our  accents  and  our  deeds  are 
words,  to  whom  a  word  may  shoot  a  pang  worse  than 
the  stroke  of  death;  surely,  I  say,  if  we  can  do  so 
much  for  interest,  we  can  do  something  for  goodness 
and  for  gratitude. 

3.  And  in  all  civilized  intercourse,  how  perfectly  do 
we  see  it  ourselves  to  be  the  recognized  law  of  de- 
corum ;  and  if  we  have  not  universally  good  feelings, 
we  have  generally,  at  least,  good  manners.  This  may 
be  hypocrisy,  but  it  ought  to  be  sincerity,  and  we  trust 
it  is.  If,  then,  we  can  make  our  faces  to  shine  on 
strangers,  why  darken  them  on  those  who  should  be 
dear  to  us?  Is  it  that  we  have  so  squandered  our 
smiles  abroad,  that  we  have  only  frowns  to  carry 
home  ?  Is  it  that  while  out  in  the  world  we  have  been 
so  prodigal  of  good   temper,  that  we  have  but  our  ill 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  125 

humors  with  which  to  cloud  our  firesides  ?  Is  it  that 
it  requires  often  but  a  mere  passing  guest  to  enter, 
while  we  are  speaking  daggers  to  beings  who  are 
nearest  to  us  in  life,  to  change  our  tone,  to  give  ua 
perfect  self-command,  that  we  cannot  cl<»  for  love  what 
we  do  for  appearance  ? 


XVT.  — EESIGNATION. 

JX)NGFELLOW. 

1.  There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  9tn?  knded, 

But  one  dead  lamb  is  there ! 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 
But  has  one  vacant  chair  I 

2.  The  air  is  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying, 

And  mournings  for  the  dead  ; 
The  heart  of  Eachel  for  her  children  crying 
Will  not  be  comforted ! 

3.  Let  us  be  patient !  these  severe  afflictions 

Not  from  the  ground  arise. 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 
Assume  this  dark  disguise. 

4-.  "We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapor? 
Amid  these  earthly  damps 
What  soem  to  us  but  dim  funereal  tapers, 
May  be  Heaven's  distant  lamps. 


126  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

6.  There  is  no  Deatli !  what  seems  so  is  transition ; 
This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  a  suburb  of  the  life  elysian. 

Whose  portals  we  call  Death. 

6.  She  is  not  dead— the  child  of  our  affection — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 
Where  she  no  longer  needs  our  poor  protection, 
And  Christ  himseK  doth  rule. 

7.  In  that  great  Cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion, 

By  guardian  angels  led, 
Safe  from  temptation,  safe  fi'om  sin's  pollution, 
She  lives,  whom  we  call  dead. 

8.  Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing 

In  those  bright  realms  of  air  ; 
Year  after  year  her  tender  steps  pursuing, 
Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 

9.  Thus  do  we  walk  with  her,  and  keep  unbroken 

The  bond  which  Nature  gives, 

Thinking  that  our  remembrance,  tho'  unspoken. 

May  reach  her  where  she  lives. 

10>  Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her ; 
For  when  with  raptures  wild 
In  our  embraces  we  again  infold  her, 
She  will  not  be  a  child ; 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  127 

11.  But  a  fair  maiden,  in  lier  Father's  mansion, 

Clothed  with  celestial  grace ; 
And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 
Shall  we  behold  her  face. 

12.  And  though  at  times,  impetuous  with  emotion 

And  anguish  long  suppressed. 
The  swelling  heart  heaves  moaning  like  the  ocean 
That  can  not  be  at  rest — 

13.  We  will  be  patient !  and  assuage  the  feeling 

We  can  not  wholly  stay  ; 
By  silence  sanctifying,  not  concealing, 
The  grief  that  must  have  way. 


XVn.— DESCRIPTION  OF  VIRGINU. 

BANCBOFT. 

From  the  ♦'  History  of  the  United  States." 
1.  The  genial  climate  and  transparent  atmosphere 
delighted  those  who  had  come  from  the  denser 
atmosphere  of  England.  Every  object  in  nature 
was  new  and  wonderful.  The  loud  and  frequent 
thunder-storms  were  phenomena  that  had  been  rarely 
witnessed  in  the  colder  summers  of  the  north  ;  the 
forests,  majestic  in  their  growth,  and  free  from  under- 
wood, deserved  admiration  for  their  unrivalled  magnifi- 
cence. The  purling  streams  and  the  frequent  rivers 
flowing  between  alluvial  banks,  quickened  the  ever- 
pregnant  soil  into  an  unwearied  fertility. 


128  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

2.  The  strongest  and  the  most  delicate  flowers  grew 
familiarly  in  the  fields ;  the  woods  were  replenished 
with  sweet-barks  and  odors ;  the  gardens  matured  the 
fruits  of  Europe,  of  which  the  growth  was  invigorated 
and  the  flavor  improved  by  the  activity  of  the  virgin 
mould.  Especially  the  birds,  with  their  gay  plumage 
and  varied  melodies,  inspired  delight ;  every  traveller 
expressed  his  pleasure  in  listening  to  the  mocking- 
bird, which  carolled  a  thousand  several  tunes,  in  imi- 
tating and  excelling  the  notes  of  all  its  rivals. 

3.  The  humming-bird,  so  brilhant  in  its  plumage,  and 
so  delicate  in  its  form,  quick  in  motion,  yet  not  fearing 
the  presence  of  man,  haunting  about  the  flowers  like 
the  bee,  gathering  honey,  rebounding  from  the  blos- 
soms into  which  it  dips  its  bill,  and  as  soon  returning 
"  to  renew  its  many  addresses  to  its  delightful  ob- 
jects," was  ever  admired  as  the  smallest  and  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  feathered  race. 

4.  The  rattlesnake,  with  the  terrors  of  its  alarms  and 
the  power  of  its  venom  ;  the  opossum,  soon  to  become 
as  celebrated  for  the  care  of  its  offspring  as  the  fabled 
pelican ;  the  noisy  frog,  booming  from  the  shallows 
like  the  EngUsh  bittern ;  the  flying  squirrel ;  the  myr- 
iads of  pigeons,  darkening  the  air  with  the  immensity 
of  their  flocks,  and,  as  men  believed,  breaking  with 
their  weight  the  boughs  of  trees  on  which  they  alight- 
ed,— were  all  honored  with  frepient  communication, 
and  became  the  subjects  of  tlio  strangest  tales. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  12& 

5.  The  concurrcut  relation  of  all  the  Indians  justi- 
fied the  belief  that,  within  ten  days'  journey  toward 
the  setting  of  the  sun,  there  was  a  country  where  gold 
might  be  washed  from  the  sand,  and  where  the  na- 
tives themselves  had  learned  the  use  of  the  crucible ; 
but  definite  and  accurate  as  were  the  accounts,  inquiry 
was  always  baffled ;  and  the  regions  of  gold  remained 
for  two  centuries  an  undiscovered  land. 


XVin.-THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  HUDSON  RIVEB. 

IKVINa. 

The  following  humorous  account  of  this  event  is  extracted  from 
"Washington  Irving's  amusing  "History  of  New  York,  by  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker."  The  reader  must  be  careful  not  to  confound  tho 
historical  with  the  humorous  parts  of  the  narrative. 

1.  In  the  ever  memorable  year  of  our  Lord,  1609, 
on  a  Saturday  morning,  the  five-and-twentieth  day  of 
March,  old  style,*  did  that  "worthy  and  irreproach- 
able discoverer  (as  he  has  justly  been  called).  Master 
Henry  Hudson,"  set  sail  from  Holland  in  a  stout  ves- 
sel called  the  Half  Moon,  being  employed  by  the  Dutch 
East  India  Company,  to  seek  a  northwest  passage  to 
China. 

2.  Henry  (or,  as  the  Dutch  historians  call  him,  Hen- 
drick)  Hudson,  was  a  sea-faring  man  of  renown,  who 

*  By  old  style  is  meant  the  mode  of  reckoning  dates  previous  to  tho 
correction  of  the  calendar  in  England,  in  17r)2.  The  derangement 
then  amounted  to  eleven  days  ;  and,  by  Act  of  Parliament,  the  3d  oi 
September  of  that  yeai  became  the  14th. 


130  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

had  learned  to  smoke  tobacco  under  Sir  Walter 
Baleigh,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  intro- 
duce it  into  Holland,  which  gained  him  much  popu- 
larity in  that  country,  and  caused  him  to  find  great 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  their  high  mightinesses,  the  lords 
states-general,  and  also  of  the  honorable  West  India 
Company.  He  was  a  short,  square,  brawny  old  gen- 
tleman, with  a  double  chin,  a  mastiff  mouth,  and  a 
broad  copper  nose,  which  was  supposed  in  those  days 
to  have  acquired  its  fiery  hue  from  the  constant  neigh- 
borhood of  his  tobacco-pipe. 

3.  He  wore  a  true  Andrea  Ferrara,  tucked  in  a 
leathern  belt,  and  a  commodore's  cocked  hat  on  one 
side  of  his  head.  Such  was  Hendrick  Hudson,  of 
whom  we  have  heard  so  much,  and  know  as  little  :  and 
I  have  been  thus  particular  in  his  description  for  the 
benefit  of  modern  painters  and  statuaries,  that  they 
may  represent  him  as  he  was ;  and  not,  according  to 
their  common  custom  with  modern  heroes,  make  him 
look  like  Caesar,  or  Marcus  Aurelius,  or  the  Apollo  of 
Belvidere. 

4.  From  all  that  I  can  learn,  few  incidents  worthy  of 
remark  happened  in  the  voyage  ;  and  it  mortifies  m » 
exceedingly  that  I  have  to  admit  so  noted  an  expedi- 
tion into  my  work,  without  making  any  more  of  it. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  the  voyage  was  prosperous  and  tran- 
quil— the  crew,  being  a  patient  people,  much  given  to 
slumber  and  vacuity,  and  but  little  troubled  with  the 


THE   FIFTll    FiEADER.  131 

disease  of  tLiukiiig  — a  mal;iJy  of  the  miDd,  wliicli  is 
the  sure  breeder  of  discontent.  Hudson  had  lain  in 
abundance  of  gin  and  sourcrout,  and  every  man  was 
allowed  to  sleep  quietly  at  his  post  unless  the  wind 
blew. 

5.  True  it  is,  some  slight  disaffection  was  shown  on 
two  or  three  occasions,  at  certain  unreasonable  con- 
duct of  Commodore  Hudson.  Thus,  for  instance,  he 
forbore  to  shorten  sail  when  the  wind  was  light,  and 
the  weather  serene,  which  was  considered  among  the 
most  experienced  Dutch  seamen,  as  certain  weather- 
breeders,  or  prognostics  that  the  weather  would  change 
for  the  worse.  He  acted,  moreover,  in  direct  contra- 
diction to  that  ancient  and  sage  rule  of  the  Dutch  navi- 
gators, who  always  took  in  sail  at  night — put  the  helm 
a-port,  and  turned  in — by  which  precaution  they  had  a 
good  night's  rest — were  sure  of  knowing  where  they 
were  next  morning,  and  stood  but  little  chance  of  run- 
ning down  a  continent  in  the  dark. 

6.  He  likewise  prohibited  the  seamen  from  wearing 
more  than  five  jackets  and  six  pair  of  breeches,  under 
pretense  of  rendering  them  more  alert ;  and  no  man 
was  permitted  to  go  aloft,  and  hand  in  sails  with  a 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  as  is  the  invariable  Dutch  custom 
at  the  present  day.  All  these  grievances,  though  they 
might  ruiSe  for  a  moment  the  constitutional  ti'anquillity 
of  the  honest  Dutch  tars,  made  but  transiei^t  impres- 
sion ;  they  eat  hugely,  drank  profusely,  and  slept  im- 


132  THE  FIFTH   READEn. 

measurably,  and  being  under  the  especial  guidance  of 
Providence,  tbe  ship  was  safely  conducted  to  the  coast 
of  America ;  where,  after  sundry  unimportant  toucbinga 
aud  standings  off  and  on,  she  at  length,  on  the  4th  day 
of  September,  entered  that  majestic  bay,  which  at  this 
day  expands  its  ample  bosom  before  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  which  had  never  before  been  \isited  by  any 
European.* 

7.  It  has  been  traditionary  in  our  family,  that  when 
the  gi'eat  navigator  was  first  blessed  with  a  view  of  thia 
enchanting  island,  he  was  observed,  for  the  first  and 
only  time  in  his  life,  to  exhibit  strong  symptoms  of 
astonishment  and  admiration.  He  is  said  to  have 
turned  to  Master  Juet  (his  mate),  and  uttered  these 
remarkable  words,  while  he  pointed  toward  this  para- 
dise of  the  New  World — "  See  I  there  !" — and  there- 
upon, as  was  always  his  way  when  ho  was  uncommonly 
pleased,  he  did  puff  out  such  clouds  of  smoke,  that  in 
one  minute  the  vessel  was  out  of  sight  of  land,  and 
Master  Juet  was  fain  to  wait  until  the  winds  dispersed 
this  impenetrable  fog. 

8.  It  was  indeed — as  my  great-grandfather  used  to 
say — though  in  truth  I  never  heard  him,  for  he  died, 
as  might  be  expected,  before  I  was  born — "  It  was  in- 
deed a  spot  on  which  the  eye  might  have  reveled  for- 
ever, in   ever  new  and  never-ending  beauties.*'     The 

*  Jt  i§,  however,  thought  by  some  that  Vemzzani,  the  Floreiitine 
navigator,  onteiecl  the  harbor  and  lauded  on  the  islui  d  of  Manhattan, 
in  152^. 


THE  FlfTH   READER.  18cJ 

island  of  Mannaliata  spread  wide  before  them,  like 
some  sweet  vision  of  fancy,  or  some  fair  creation  of  in- 
dustrious magic.  Its  hills  of  smiling  green  swelled 
gently  one  above  another,  crowned  with  lofty  trees  of 
luxuriant  growth  ;  some  pointing  their  tapering  foliage 
toward  the  clouds,  which  were  gloriously  transparent ; 
and  others  loaded  with  a  verdant  burden  of  clambering 
vines,  bowing  their  branches  to  the  earth,  that  was 
covered  with  flowers. 

9.  On  the  gentle  declivities  of  the  Mils  were  scattered 
in  gay  profusion,  the  dog-wood,  the  sumach,  and  the 
wild-brier,  whose  scarlet  berries  and  white  blossoms 
glowed  brightly  among  the  deep  green  of  the  surround 
ing  foliage ;  and  here  and  there  a  curling  column  of 
smoke  rising  from  the  little  glens  that  opened  along 
the  shore,  seemed  to  promise  the  weary  voyagers  a 
welcome  at  the  hands  of  their  fellow-creatures.  As 
they  stood  gazing  with  entranced  attention  on  the 
scene  before  them,  a  red  man  crowned  with  feathers, 
issued  from  one  of  these  glens,  and  after  contemplat- 
ing in  silent  wonder  the  gallant  ship,  as  she  sat  like  a 
stately  swan  on  a  silver  lake,  sounded  the  war-whoop, 
and  bounded  into  the  woods  like  a  wild  deer,  to  the 
utter  astonishment  of  the  phlegmatic  Dutchmen,  who 
had  never  heard  such  a  noise,  or  witnessed  such  a  caper, 
in  their  whole  lives. 

10.  Of  the  transactions  of  our  adventurers  with  the 
savages,  and  how  the  latter  smoked  copper  pipes,  and 


134  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

ate  dried  currants ;  how  they  brought  great  store  ol 
tobaoco  and  oysters ;  how  they  shot  one  of  the  ship's 
crew,  and  how  he  was  buried,  1  shall  say  nothing ; 
being  that  I  consider  them  unimportant  to  my  history. 
After  tarrying  a  few  days  in  the  bay,  in  order  to  re- 
fresh themselves  after  their  sea-faring,  our  voyagers 
weighed  anchor,  to  explore  a  mighty  river  which  emp- 
ties into  the  bay.  This  river,  it  is  said,  was  known 
among  the  savages  by  the  name  of  Shat'emuck  ;  though 
we  are  assured  [by  some]  that  it  was  called  the  3Iohe- 
gan.  Be  this  as  it  may,  up  this  river  did  the  adven- 
turous Hendrick  proceed,  little  doubting  but  it  would 
turn  out  to  be  the  much-looked-for  passage  to  China. 

11.  After  sailing  above  a  hundred  miles  up  the  river, 
he  found  the  watery  world  around  him  began  to  grow 
more  shallow  and  confined,  the  current  more  rapid  and 
perfectly  fresh — ^phenomena  not  uncommon  in  the  as- 
cent of  rivers,  but  which  puzzled  the  honest  Dutchman 
prodigiously.  A  consultation  was  therefore  called,  and 
having  deliberated  full  six  hours,  they  were  brought  to 
a  determination  by  the  ship's  running  aground — where- 
upon they  unanimously  concluded,  that  there  was  but 
little  chance  of  getting  to  China  in  this  direction.  A 
boat,  however,  was  dispatched  to  explore  higher  up 
the  river,  which,  on  its  return,  confirmed  the  opinion. 
Upon  this  the  ship  was  warped  off  and  put  about ; 
and  the  adventurous  Hudson  returned  down  the  rivet 
—  with  a  prodigious  flea  in  his  ear. 


THE   FIFTH   READEK.  135 

XIX.— LAST  VOYAGE  OF  HENEl  HUDSON. 

ANON. 

1.  Happy,  Id  deed,  would  it  have  been  for  Hudson  if 
he  could  have  closed  his  career  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  whose  beauty  he  was  the  first  to  witness  and 
describe,  and  thus  have  escaped  the  sorrowful  and 
mysterious  catastrophe^  which  awaited  him  the  next 
year.  On  his  fourth  and  last  voyage  he  set  sail  in  a 
small  vessel,  of  only  fifty-five  tons'  burden,  manned  by 
twenty-three  men,  and  victualed  for  six  months  (IGIO). 

2.  After  touching  at  the  Orkney  Islands,  he  steered 
his  course  to  Iceland,  where  he  witnessed  one  of  na- 
ture's grandest  spectacles — Mount  Hecla  in  the  blaze 
of  a  violent  eruption,  surrounded  by  perpetual  snows. 
The  crew  landed,  and,  having  killed  a  number  of  wild 
fowl,  cooked  them  in  one  of  the  hot  springs  of  this 
»\-onderful  island.  Again  weighing  anchor,  Hudson 
passed  the  south  of  Greenland  till  he  reached  the 
strait  which  now  bears  his  name. 

3.  Here,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  difficulties  and 
dangers  of  navigation  among  the  ice,  he  had  to  strug- 
gle against  a  mutiny  among  his  crew ;  but,  in  spite  of 
all,  this  intrepid  explorer  boldly  pushed  on  till  his 
vessel  plowed  the  waters  of  that  great  inland  sea, 
now  known  as  Hudson's  Bay.  He  did  not  know  for  a 
long  time  that  it  was  a  bay,  but  indulged  the  hope 
that  he  had  discovered  what  he  had  so  long  sought— 
a  passage  by  the  northw<^st  to  China.     Indeed,  the  eX" 


IS6  THE   FIFTH  RE.VDER. 

tent  of  the  surface  amply  justified  this  expectation^ 
since,  with  the  exception  of  the  Mediteiranean,  it  is 
the  largest  inland  sea  in  the  world. 

4.  Being  obliged  to  pass  the  winter  in  these  frost- 
bound  regions,  on  the  1st  of  November,  after  seeking 
winter-quarters,  his  men  found  a  suitable  spot  for 
beaching  their  vessel.  Ten  days  afterward  they  were 
frozen  in,  with  so  scanty  a  stock  of  provisions,  that,  on 
the  most  stinted  allowance,  it  was  hardly  sufficient  to 
last  till,  by  the  return  of  spring,  they  could  expect  a 
release  from  the  ice. 

5-  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  hardships  of  that 
winter,  during  which,  notwithstanding  all  the  birds, 
fishes,  and  animals  serviceable  for  food,  which  they 
could  succeed  in  catching,  they  were  always  suffering 
from  want  and  starvation.  When  we  are  told  that 
they  were  finally  compelled  to  live  upon  moss  and 
frogs,  we  may  form  some  faint  conception  of  their 
awful  privations. 

6.  When  the  ice  broke  up,  Hudson  prepared  for  the 
homeward  voyage.  The  last  ration  of  bread  was  dealt 
out  to  the  crew  on  the  day  of  their  setting  sail.  As, 
with  a  long  and  perilous  voyage  before  them,  they  had 
not  other  provisions  for  the  entire  crew  for  more  than 
ten  days,  a  report  that  their  commander  had  concealed 
a  quantity  of  bread  for  his  own  use  was  readily  be- 
lieved by  the  famishing  men ;  and  a  mutiny,  headed 
by  a  man  named  Green,  broke  out  on  the  Hist  of  June. 


THE   FIFTH   HEADER.  137 

Hudson  was  seized,  and  his  hands  bound,  on  the  deck 
of  his  own  vessel,  where  his  word  shoulc?  have  been 
law. 

7.  The  mutineers,  not  satisfied  with  this  cruel  indig- 
nity, followed  it  up  by  an  act  of  inhumanity  which  it 
is  dreadful  to  think  that  British  seamen  could  have 
perpetrated  : — they  put  the  captain,  together  with  the 
sick  and  those  whom  the  frost  had  deprived  of  the  use 
of  their  limbs,  into  the  shallop.  The  conduct  of  the 
carpenter,  however,  forms  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
base  heartlessness  of  the  mutineers.  Refusing  to  re- 
main in  the  ship,  he  nobly  prepared  to  share  the  fate 
of  Hudson  and  his  disabled  shipmates. 

8.  Soon  afterward  the  crew  cast  the  boat  adrift,  with 
its  hapless  freight,  and  stood  out  to  sea.  Doubtless, 
in  the  great  inland  sea  which  they  had  discovered, 
Hudson  and  his  miserable  companions  found  a  grave  ; 
for  the  boat  was  never  seen  or  heard  of  more.  Two 
days  after  the  mutineers  had  sailed,  they  encountered 
a  violent  storm,  and  for  fourteen  days  were  in  the 
greatest  danger  from  the  ic©^ 

9.  That  storm  was  doubtless  fatal  to  their  intrepid 
commander  and  his  forlorn  party,  who  may  have  thus 
escaped  a  still  more  terrible  death  from  want  and  ex- 
posure. We  contemplate  with  very  different  feelings 
the  just  retribution  which  overtook  the  guilty  muti- 
neers. They  made  the  best  of  their  way  home  in  the 
Kliip  which  they  had  thus  foully  obtained ;  but  not  oum 


138  THE  iUTH  READER. 

of  the  ringleaders  lived  to  reach  the  land.  The  rest, 
after  suffering  the  most  awful  extremities  of  famine, 
finally  gained  the  shore.  None  of  them  were  ever 
brought  to  trial  for  their  misdeeds  ; — probably  because 
those  who  were  deepest  in  guilt  had  already  paid  the 
penalty  of  their  crimes. 

10.  The  melancholy  end  of  Hudson  is  more  affecting 
than  the  death  even  of  Columbus,  Cortez,  and  Pizarro, 
in  the  preceding  century.  His  talents,  courage,  and 
perseverance,  rank  him  among  the  first  navigators  of 
any  age.  In  the  comparative  infancy  of  discovery  in 
the  northern  regions,  he  deserves  to  take  the  lead. 
Though  treacherously  abandoned  in  the  great  inland 
sea  which  he  had  discovered,  he  has  not,  like  many  of 
his  contemporaries,  been  ungenerously  forgotten  by 
posterity.  His  skill  and  daring  awakened  the  highest 
admiration,  while  the  mystery  of  his  fate  causes  his 
name  even  yet  to  be  mentioned  with  pifcy. 

»  Ca.-tas'-tbo-phe,  disaster  ;  calamity. 


XX.— WHAT  IS  GLOEYT 

MOTHEBWEIiL. 

1.  "  What  is  glory  ?    What  is  fame  ?    • 
The  echo  of  a  long-lost  name ; 
A  breath — an  idle  hour's  brief  talk. 
The  shadow  of  an  arrant  naught ; 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  139 

A  flower  that  blossoms  for  a  day, 
Dying  next  morrow ; 
A  stream  that  hurries  on  its  way, 
Singing  of  sorrow ; 
The  last  drop  of  bootless  shower, 
Shed  on  a  sear  and  leafless  flower ; 
A  rose  stuck  in  a  dead  man's  breast— 
This  is  the  world's  fame,  at  the  best  I 

2.  "  What  is  fame  ?  and  what  is  glory  ? 
A  dream — a  jester's  lying  story, 
To  tickle  fools  withal,  or  be 
A  theme  for  second  infancy ; 
A  joke  scrawled  on  an  epitaph, 
A  grin  at  death's  own  ghastly  laugh  ; 
A  visioning  that  tempts  the  eye. 
But  mocks  the  touch — nonentity ; 
A  rainbow,  substanceless  as  bright. 

Flitting  forever, 
O'er  hill-top  to  more  distant  hight, 

Nearing  us  never ; 
A  bubble  blown  by  fond  conceit. 
In  very  sooth  itself  to  cheat ; 
The  witch-fire  of  a  frenzied  brain, 
A  fortune  that  to  lose  were  gain  ; 
A  word  of  praise,  perchance  of  blame. 
The  wreck  of  a  time-bandied  name — • 
Ah !  this  is  Glory !  this  is  Fame !  " 


140  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

XXX— THE  SPANISH  CONQUESTS   IN  AMERICA- 
From  a  poem  entitled  the  "  West  Indies,"  b>  James  Montgomery, 

The  winds  were  prosperous,  and  tlie  billows  bore 
The  brave  adventurer  to  the  promised  shore  ; 
Far  in  the  West,  arrayed  in  purple  light, 
Dawned  the  new  world  on  his  enraptured  sight : 
Not  Adam  loosened  from  the  encumbering  earth, 
"Waked  by  the  breath  of  God  to  instant  birth, 
With  sweeter,  wilder  wonder  gazed  around. 
When  life  within  and  light  without  he  found ; 
When,  all  creation  rushing  o'er  his  soul, 
He  seemed  to  Uve  and  breathe  throughout  the  whole. 
So  felt  Columbus,  when,  divinely  fair. 
At  the  last  look  of  resolute  despair, 
The  Hesperian  isles,  from  distance  dimly  blue, 
With  gradual  beauty  opened  on  his  view. 
In  that  proud  moment,  his  transported  mind 
The  morning  and  the  evening  worlds  combined, 
And  made  the  sea,  that  sundered  them  before, 
A  bond  of  peace,  uniting  shore  to  shore. 

Vain,  visionary  hope !  rapacious  Spain 
Followed  her  hero's  triumph  o'er  the  main. 
Her  hardy  sons  in  fields  of  battle  tried. 
Where  Moor  and  Christian  desperately  died. 
A  rabid  race,  fanatically  bold. 
And  steeled  to  cruelty  by  lust  of  gold. 
Traversed  the  waves,  the  unknown  woi-ld  explored, 
The  cross  their  standard,  but  their  faith  the  sword, 


THE   FIFIH    HEADER.  141 

Tbelr  steps  were  graves ;  o'er  prostrate  realms  tliey 

trod. 
They  worshiped  Mammon,  while  they  vowed  to  God 

Let  nobler  bards  in  loftier  numbers  tell 
How  Cortez  conquered,  Montezuma  fell ; 
How  fierce  Pizarro's  ruffian  arm  o'erthrew 
The  sun's  resplendent  empire  in  Peru  ; 
How,  like  a  prophet,  old  Las  Casas  stood, 
And  raised  his  voice  against  a  sea  of  blood, 
Whose  chilling  waves  recoiled  while  he  foretold 
His  country's  ruin  by  avenging  gold. 
That  gold,  for  which  unpitied  Indians  fell, 
That  gold,  at  once  the  snare  and  scourge  of  hell, 
Thenceforth  by  righteous  heaven  was   doomed   to 

shed 
Unmingled  curses  on  the  spoiler's  head  ; 
For  gold  the  Spaniard  cast  his  soul  away, — 
His  gold  and  he  were  every  nation's  prey. 


XXn.  -THE  DISCOVEKY  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI  EIVER. 

BANCROFT. 

Twenty  years  after  Columbus's  first  discovery,  Ponce  de  Laon  (pon'- 
Iha  da  In  on'),  au  aged  Spaniard,  accidently  discovered  Florida,  which 
received  its  name  from  the  abundance  of  flowers  with  which  its  forests 
were  adorned.  The  belief  soon  afterward  became  quite  general  among 
the  Spaniards  that  this  region  abounded  in  riches ;  and,  accordingly, 
De  Soto  (da  so' -to),  who  had  acquired  wealth  and  distinction  as  an 
associate  of  Pizarro,  fitted  out  an  expedition  to  explore  and  conquer 
the  country.     In  1539,  he  landed  on  its  shores,  and  penetrated  into 


142  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

the  interior ;  and  during  his  wanderings,  which  asted  nearly  three 
years,  he  discovered  the  Mississippi  Biver  (1541).  In  the  following 
extract  from  Bancrofts  "History  of  the  United  States,"  an  account  ia 
given  of  this  event  and  of  the  death  of  the  great  explorer. 

1.  All  tlie  disasters  which  had  been  encountered,  far 
from  diminishing  the  boldness  of  De  Soto,  served 
only  to  confirm  his  obstinacy  by  wounding  his  pride. 
Should  he,  who  had  promised  greater  booty  than 
Mexico  or  Peru  had  yielded,  now  return  as  a  defeated 
fugitive,  so  naked  that  his  troops  were  clad  only  in 
skins  and  mats  of  ivy  ?  The  search  for  some  wealthy 
region  was  renewed ;  the  caravan  marched  still  further 
to  the  west. 

2.  For  seven  days  it  struggled  through  a  wilderness 
of  forests  and  marshes,  and  at  length  came  to  Indian 
settlements  in.  the  vicinity  of  the  Mississippi.  The 
lapse  of  nearlj  three  centuries  has  not  changed  the 
character  of  th^  stream.  It  was  then  described  as 
more  than  a  mile  broad,  flowing  with  a  strong  cur- 
rent, and,  by  the  weight  of  its  waters,  forming  a  chan- 
nel of  great  depth.  Tho  water  was  always  muddy ; 
trees  and  timber  were  continually  floating  down  tho 
stream. 

3.  The  Spaniards  were  guided  to  the  Mississippi  by 
the  natives ;  and  were  direct^^.d  to  one  of  the  usual 
crossing-places,  probably  to  the  lowest,  Chickasa 
( Chick' a-saw)  Bluff,  not  far  from  the  thirty-fifth  par- 
allel of  latitude.  The  arrival  of  the  strangers  awa- 
kened curiosity  and  fear.     A  multitude  of  people  from 


THE   FIFTH    HEADER.  113 

the  western  banks  of  the  river,  painted  and  gaylj  dec- 
oiated  with  great  plumes  of  white  feathers,  the  war- 
riors standing  in  rows  with  bow  and  arrows  in  their 
[  ands,  the  chieftains  sitting  under  awnings  as  magnifi- 
cent as  the  artless  manufactures  of  the  natives  could 
weave,  came  rowing  down  the  stream  in  a  fleet  of  two 
hundred  canoes,  seeming  to  the  admiring  Spaniards 
"  like  a  fair  army  of  galleys." 

4.  They  brought  gifts  of  fish,  and  loaves  made  of  tho 
fruit  of  the  persimmon.  At  first  they  showed  some  do- 
sire  to  ofi'er  resistance ;  but,  soon  becoming  conscious 
of  their  relative  weakness,  they  ceased  to  defy  an  enemy 
who  could  not  be  overcome,  and  suffered  injury  with- 
out attempting  open  retaliation.  The  boats  of  the 
natives  were  too  weak  to  transport  horses ;  almost  a 
month  expired  before  barges,  large  enough  to  hold 
three  horsemen  each,  were  constructed  for  crossing  the 
river.  At  length  the  Spaniards  embarked  upon  the 
Mississippi,  and  were  borno  to  its  western  bank. 

5.  The  Dahcota  tribes,  doubtless,  then  occupied  the 
country  southwest  of  the  Missouri ;  Soto  had  heard  its 
praises ;  he  believed  in  its  vicinity  to  mineral  wealth  ; 
and  he  determined  to  visit  its  towns.  In  ascending 
the  Mississippi,  the  party  was  often  obliged  to  wade 
through  morasses :  at  length  they  came,  as  it  would 
S3em,  upon  the  district  of  Little  Prairie.,  and  the  dry 
and  elevated  lands  which  extend  toward  New  Madrid. 

C.  Here  the  religions  of  the  invaders  aad  the  natives 


144:  THE   FIFTH    READER. 

came  iii  contrast.  The  Spaniards  were  adored  as  chil* 
dren  of  the  sun,  and  the  blind  were  brought  into  their 
presence,  to  be  healed  by  the  sons  of  light.  "  Pray 
only  to  God,  who  is  in  heaven,  for  whatsoever  ye 
need,"  said  Soto  in  reply;  and  the  sublime  doctrine 
which,  thousands  of  years  before,  had  been  proclaimed 
in  the  deserts  of  Arabia,  now  first  found  its  way  into 
the  prairies  of  the  Far  West. 

7.  The  wild  fruits  of  that  region  were  abundant ;  the 
pecan  nut,  the  mulberry,  and  the  two  kinds  of  wild 
plums,  furnished  the  natives  with  articles  of  food.  At 
Pacaha  (pa-caw 'haw),  the  northernmost  point  which 
Soto  reached  near  the  Mississippi,  he  remained  forty 
days.  The  spot  cannot  be  identified;  but  the  ac- 
counts of  the  amusements  of  the  Spaniards  confirm 
the  truth  of  the  narrative  of  their  ramblings.  Fish 
were  taken,  such  as  are  now  found  in  the  fresh  waters 
of  that  region;  one  of  them,  the  spade  fish, — the 
strangest  and  most  whimsical  production  of  the  muddy 
streams  of  the  West,  so  rare,  that,  even  now,  it  is 
hardly  to  be  found  in  any  museum, — is  accurately  de- 
scribed by  the  best  historian  of  the  expedition. 

8.  An  exploring  party  which  was  sent  to  examine 
the  regions  of  the  North,  reported  that  they  were  al- 
most a  desert.  The  country  still  nearer  the  Missouri 
was  said  by  the  Indians  to  be  thinly  inhabited ;  the 
bison  abounded  there  so  much,  that  no  maize  could 
be  cultivated ;  and  the  few  inhabitants  were  hunters^ 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  145 

Soto  turned,  therefore,  to  the  west  and  northwest,  and 
plunged  still  more  deeply  into  the  interior  of  the  con- 
tinent. The  highlands  of  White  Kiver,  more  than  two 
hundred  miles  from  the  Mississippi,  were  probably  +be 
limit  of  his  ramble  in  this  direction. 

9.  The  mountains  offered  neither  gems  nor  gold; 
and  the  disappointed  adventurers  marched  to  the 
south.  They  passed  through  a  succession  of  towns,  of 
which  the  position  cannot  be  fixed ;  till,  at  length,  we 
find  them  among  the  Tunicas,  near  the  hot  springs 
and  saline  tributaries  of  the  Washita  (wash-i-taw'). 
It  was  at  Autiamque,  a  town  on  the  same  river,  that 
they  passed  the  winter;  they  had  arrived  at  the  settle- 
ment through  the  country  of  the  Kappaws. 

10.  The  native  tribes,  everywhere  on  the  route,  were 
found  in  a  state  of  civilization  beyond  that  of  nomadic 
hordes.  They  were  an  agricultural  people,  with  fixed 
places  of  abode,  and  subsisted  upon  the  produce  of  the 
fields  more  than  upon  the  chase.  Ignorant  of  the  arts 
of  life,  they  could  offer  no  resistance  to  their  unwel- 
come visitors ;  the  bow  and  arrow  were  the  most  effec- 
tive weapons  with  which  they  were  acquainted.  They 
seem  not  to  have  been  turbulent  or  quarrelsome ;  but 
as  the  population  was  moderate,  and  the  earth  fruitful, 
the  tribes  were  not  accustomed  to  contend  with  each 
other  for  the  possession  of  territories. 

11.  Their  dress  was,  in  part,  mats  wrought  of  ivy 
and  bulrushes,  or  of  the  bark  and  lint  of  trees ;  in  cold 


146  THE  FIFTH   EEADER. 

weather  they  wore  mantles  woven  of  feathers.  The 
settlements  were  by  tribes, — each  tribe  occupied  what 
the  Spaniards  called  a  proyince ;  their  Tillages  were 
generally  near  together,  but  were  composed  of  few 
habitations.  The  Spaniards  treated  them  with  no 
other  forbearance  than  their  own  selfishness  de- 
manded, and  enslaved  such  as  offended,  employing 
them  as  porters  and  guides. 

12.  On  a  slight  suspicion,  they  would  cut  off  the 
hands  of  numbers  of  the  natives,  for  punishment  or 
intimidation ;  while  the  'young  cavaliers,  from,  desire 
of  seeming  valiant,  ceased  to  be  merciful,  and  exulted 
in  cruelties  and  carnage.  The  guide  who  was  unsuc- 
cessful, or  who  purposely  led  them  away  from  the  set- 
tlements of  his  tribe,  would  be  seized  and  thrown  to 
the  flames.  Any  trifling  consideration  of  safety  would 
induce  the  governor  to  set  fire  to  a  hamlet.  He  did 
not  dehght  in  cruelty  ;  but  the  happiness,  the  life,  and 
the  rights  of  the  Indians,  were  held  of  no  account. 
The  approach  of  the  Spaniards  was  heard  with  dis- 
may ;  and  their  departure  hastened  by  the  suggestion 
of  wealthier  lands  at  a  distance. 

13.  In  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  Soto  deCcr- 
mined  to  descend  the  Washita  to  its  junction,  ar.'.l  to 
get  tidings  of  the  sea.  As  he  advanced,  he  wai  coon 
lost  amidst  the  bayous  and  marshes  which  ar'  found 
along  the  Red  River  and  its  tributaries.  N  ^r  the 
Mississippi  he  came  upon  the  country  of  Nik  •,  which 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  147 

was  well  peopled.  The  river  was  there  larger  than 
the  Guadalquiver  (gwah-dal-ke-veer')  at  Seville.  At 
last  he  arrived  at  the  province  where  the  Washita,  al- 
ready united  with  the  Red  Biver,  enters  the  Mississip- 
pi. The  province  was  called  Guachoya  (gioah-tcho'- 
yah.) 

14.  Soto  anxiously  inquired, the  distance  to  the  sea  ; 
the  chieftain  of  Guachoya  could  not  tell.  Were  there 
settlements  extending  along; the  river  to  its  mouth? 
It  was  answered  that  its  lower  banks  were  an  unin- 
habited waste.  Unwilling  to  believe  so  disheartening 
a  tale,  Soto  sent  one  of  his  men;  with  eight  horsemen 
to  descend  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  and  explore 
the  country.  They  traveled  eight  days,  and  were  able 
to  advance  not  much  more  than  thirty  miles,  they  were 
so  delayed  by  the  frequent  bayous,  the  impassable 
cane-brakes,  and  the  dense  woods. 

15.  The  governor  received  the  intelligence  with  con- 
cern ;  he  suffered  from  anxiety  and  gloom.  His  horses 
and  men  were  dying  around  him,  so  that  the  natives 
were  becoming  dangerous  epemies.  He  attempted  to 
overawe  a  tribe  of  Indians  near  Natchez  by  claiming  a 
supernatural  birth,  and  demanding  obedience  and  tri- 
bute. "  You  say  you  are  the  child  of  the  sun,"  replied 
the  undaunted  chief ;  '*  dry  up  the  river,  and  I  will  be- 
lieve you.  Do  you  desire  to  see  me  ?  Visit  the  town 
where  I  dwell.     If  you  come  in  peace,  I  will  receive 


148  THE   FIFPH   REAUEK. 

yon  witli  special  good-will ;  if  in  war,  1  will  not  febrink 
one  foot  back." 

16.  But  Soto  was  no  longer  able  to  abate  the  confi- 
dence or  punish  the  temerity  of  the  natives.  His  stub- 
born pride  was  changed  by  long  disappointments  into 
a  wasting  melancholy ;  and  his  health  sunk  rapidly 
and  entirely  under  a  conflict  of  emotions.  A  malignant 
fever  ensued,  during  which  he  had  little  comfort,  and 
was  neither  visited  nor  attended  as  the  last  hours  of 
life  demand.  Believing  his  death  near  at  hand,  he 
lield  the  last  solemn  interview  with  his  faithful  fol- 
lowers ;  and,  yielding  to  the  wishes  of  his  companions, 
who  obeyed  him  to  the  end,  he  named  a  successor. 
On  the  next  day  he  died. 


XXm.— PROSPECT  OF  AETS  AND  LEARNING  IN  AMERICA. 

BEEKELET. 

The  following  verses  were  written  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  by  Bishop  Berkeley,  as  prophetic  of  the  future  greatness  of 
America.  If  the  prophecy  be  not  fulfilled,  it  shall  be  because  tbe 
voice  of  religion  is  despised  and  her  teaching  neglected. 

1.  The  Muse,  disgusted  at  an  age  and  clime 

Barren  of  every  glorious  theme. 
In  distant  lands  now  waits  a  better  time, 
Producing  subjects  worthy  fame. 

2.  In  happy  climes,  where  from  the  genial  sun 

And  virgin  earth  such  scenes  ensue, 
The  force  of  art  by  nature  seems  outdone, 
And  fancied  beauties  by  the  true  : 


THE   FIFTH   EEADER.  149 

3.  In  happy  climes,  tlie  seat  of  innocence, 

Where  nature  guides  and  virtue  rules, 
Where  men  shall  not  impose  for  truth  and  sense 
The  pedantry  of  courts  and  schools  : 

4.  There  shall  be  sung  another  golden  age, 

The  rise  of  empire  and  of  arts, 
The  good  and  great  inspiring  epic  rage, 
The  wisest  heads  and  noblest  hearts. 

5.  Not  such  as  Europe  needs  in  her  decay ; 

Such  as  she  bred  when  fresh  and  young, 
When  heavenly  flame  did  animate  her  clay. 
By  future  poets  shall  be  sung. 

6.  Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way  ; 

The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day  ; 
Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last  ! 


XXIV.— PKESS  ON. 

BENJAMIN. 

1.  Press  on !  surmount  the  rocky  steeps, 

Climb  boldly  o'er  the  torrent's  arch ; 
He  fails  alone  who  feebly  creeps. 

He  wins  who  dares  the  hero's  march. 
Be  thou  a  hero !  let  thy  might 

Tramp  on  eternal  snows  its  way. 
And,  through  the  ebon  walls  of  night. 

Hew  down  a  passage  unto  day. 


150  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

2.  Press  on     if  once  and  twice  thy  feet 

Slip  back  and  stumble,  harder  try ; 
From  him  who  never  dreads  to  meet 

Danger  and  death,  they're  sure  to  fly. 
To  coward  ranks  the  bullet  speeds, 

"While  on  their  breasts  who  never  quail, 
Gleams,  guardian  of  chivalric  deeds. 

Bright  courage,  like  a  coat  of  mail. 

3.  Press  on !  if  Fortune  play  thee  false 

To-day,  to-morrow  she'll  be  true  ; 
Whom  now  she  sinks,  she  now  exalts. 

Taking  old  gifts  and  granting  new. 
The  wisdom  of  the  present  hour 

Makes  up  for  follies  past  and  gone  : 
To  weakness,  strength  succeeds,  and  power 

From  frailty  springs — Press  on !  press  on  I 

4.  Therefore,  press  on !  and  reach  the  goal, 

And  gain  the  prize,  and  wear  the  crown : 
Faint  not !  for  to  the  steadfast  soul 

Oome  wealth,  and  honor,  and  renown. 
To  thine  own  self  be  true,  and  keep 

Thy  mind  from  sloth,  thy  heart  from  soil ; 
Press  on !  and  thou  shalt  surely  reap 

A  heavenly  harvest  for  thy  toil  I 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  151 

XXV -—EXECUTION  OF  MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 

LINGAED. 

1.  Mary  lieard  the  announcement  of  her  sentence 
with  a  serenity  of  countenance  and  dignity  of  manner, 
which  awed  and  affected  the  beholders ;  but  her  at- 
tendants burst  into  tears  and  lamentations.  After  long 
and  fervent  prayer,  the  queen  was  called  to  supper. 
She  ate  sparingly  ;  and  before  she  rose  from  table, 
drank  to  all  her  servants ;  asking,  at  the  same  time, 
forgiveness  of  them,  if  she  had  ever  spoken  or  acted 
toward  them  unkindly. 

2.  The  last  night  of  Mary's  life  was  spent  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  her  domestic  affairs,  the  writing  of  her 
will  and  of  three  letters,  and  in  exercises  of  devotion. 
In  the  retirement  of  her  closet,  with  her  two  maids,  she 
prayed  and  read  alternately ;  and  sought  for  support 
and  comfort  in  reading  the  passion  of  Christ.  About 
four  she  retired  to  rest ;  but  it  was  observed  that  she 
did  not  sleep.  Her  lips  were  in  constant  motion, 
and  her  mind  seemed  absorbed  in  prayer.  At  the  first 
break  of  day  her  household  assembled  around  her. 
She  read  to  them  her  will,  distributed  among  them 
her  clothes  and  money,  and  bade  them  adieu,  kissing 
the  women  and  giving  her  hand  to  kiss  to  the  men. 
Weeping,  they  followed  her  into  her  oratory,  where  she 
took  her  place  in  front  of  the  altar  ;  they  knelt  down 
and  prayed  behind  her. 

3.  In  the  midst  of  the  great  hall  of  the  castle  hod 


152  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

been  raised  a  scaffold  covered  with  black  serge,  and 
surrounded  with  a  low  railing.  Before  eight,  a  mes- 
sage was  sent  to  the  queen,  who  replied  that  she  would 
be  ready  in  half  an  hour.  At  that  time  the  sheriff  en- 
tered the  oratory,  and  Mary  arose,  taking  the  crucifix 
from  the  altar  in  her  right,  and  carrying  her  prayer- 
book  in  her  left  hand.  Her  servants  were  forbidden  to 
follow ;  they  insisted  :  but  the  queen  bade  them  be 
content ;  and  turning,  gave  them  her  blessing.  They 
received  it  on  their  knees,  some  kissing  her  hands, 
others  her  mantle.  The  door  closed ;  and  the  burst  o* 
lamentation  from  those  within  resounded  through  the 
hall. 

4.  Mary  was  now  joined  by  the  earls  and  her  keepers, 
and  descending  the  staircase,  found  at  the  foot,  Mel- 
ville, the  steward  of  her  household,  who,  for  several 
weeks  had  been  excluded  from  her  presence.  "  Good 
Melville,"  said  Mary,  "  I  pray  thee  report  that  I  die  a 
true  woman  to  my  religion,  to  Scotland,  and  to  France. 
May  God  forgive  them  that  have  long  thirsted  for  my 
blood  as  the  hart  doth  for  the  brook  of  water.  Com- 
mend me  to  my  son ;  and  tell  him  that  I  have  done 
nothing  prejudicial  to  the  dignity  or  independence  of 
his  crown."  She  made  a  last  request,  that  her  ser- 
vants might  be  present  at  her  death  ;  but  the  Earl  of 
Kent  objected.  When  asked  with  vehemence,  "  Am  I 
not  the  cousin  to  your  queen,  a  descendant  of  the  blood 


THE    FIFTH    EKADER.  153 

rojal  of  Henry  YII.,  a  named  queen  of  France,  and 
the  anointed  Queen  of  Scotland  ?" 

5.  It  was  then  resolved  to  admit  four  of  the  men  and 
two  of  her  woman  servants.  She  selected  her  steward, 
physician,  apothecary,  and  surgeon,  with  her  two  maids. 
Mary  wore  the  richest  of  her  dresses,  that  which  was 
appropriate  to  the  rank  of  a  queen-dowager.  Her  step 
was  firm,  and  her  countenance  cheerful.  She  bore 
without  shrinking  the  gaze  of  the  spectators,  and  the 
sight  of  the  scaffold,  the  block,  and  the  executioner ; 
and  advanced  into  the  hall  with  that  grace  and  majesty 
which  she  had  so  often  displayed  in  her  happier  days 
and  in  the  palace  of  her  fathers.  To  aid  her,  as  she 
moanted  the  scaffold,  Paulet  offered  his  arm.  "I 
thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mary ;  "it  is  the  last  trouble  I 
shall  give  you,  and  the  most  acceptable  service  you 
have  ever  rendered  me." 

6.  The  queen  seated  herself  on  a  stool  which  was 
prepared  for  her;  and  in  an  audible  voice  addressed 
the  assembly.  She  said  that  she  pardoned  from  her 
heart  all  her  enemies.  She  then  repeated  with  a  loud 
voice,  and  in  the  Latin  language,  passages  from  the 
Book  of  Psalms  ;  and  a  prayer  in  French,  in  which  she 
begged  of  God  to  pardon  her  sins,  declared  that  she 
forgave  her  enemies,  and  protested  that  she  was  ignor- 
ant of  ever  consenting  in  wish  or  deed  to  the  death  of 
her  English  sister.  Slie  then  prayed  in  Eoglish  for 
Christ's  afflicted  church,  for  her  son  James,  and  tor 


154  THE  FIFTH   KEADER. 

Queen  Elizabeth,  and  in  conclusion,  liolding  np  tlie 
crucifix,  exclaimed,  "As  tlij  arms,  0  God,  were  stretched 
out  upon  the  cross,  so  receive  me  unto  the  arms  of  Thy 
m(^rcj,  and  forgive  my  sins." 

7.  "  Madam,"  said  the  Earl  of  Kent,  "  you  had  bettei- 
leave  such  popish  trumperies,  and  bear  Him  in  your 
heart."  She  replied,  "  I  cannot  hold  in  my  hand  the 
representation  of  His  sufferings,  but  I  must  at  the  same 
time  bear  Him  in  my  heart."  When  her  maids,  bathed 
in  tears,  l)egan  to  disrobe  their  mistress,  the  execu- 
tioners, fearing  the  loss  of  their  usual  perquisites^ 
hastily  interfered.  The  queen  remonstrated ;  but  in- 
stantly submitted  to  their  rudeness,  observing  to  the 
earls,  with  a  smile,  that  she  was  not  accustomed  to 
employ  such  grooms,  or  to  undress  in  the  presence  of 
so  numerous  a  company.  Her  servants,  at  the  sight 
of  their  sovereign  in  this  lamentable  state,  could  not 
suppress  their  feelings ;  but  Mary,  putting  her  finger 
to  her  lips,  commanded  silence,  gave  them  her  blessing, 
and  solicited  their  prayers. 

8.  One  of  her  maids,  taking  from  her  a  handkerchief 
edged  with  gold,  pinned  it  over  her  eyes ;  the  execu 
tioners,  holding  her  by  the  arms,  led  her  to  the  block  ; 
and  the  queen,  kneeling  down,  said  repeatedly,  with  a 
firm  voice,  "  Into  thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I  commend  my 
spirit."  But  the  sobs  and  groans  of  the  spectators 
disconcerted  the  headsman.  He  trembled,  missed  his 
aim,  and  inflicted  a  deep  wound  in  the  lower  part  of 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  155 

the  skull.  The  queen  remained  motionless  ;  and  at 
the  third  stroke  her  head  was  severed  from  her  body. 
The  executioner  held  it  up,  and  cried  as  usual,  "  God 
save  Queen  Elizabeth."  "  So  perish  all  her  enemies  !" 
subjoined  the  Dean  of  Peterborough.  "  So  perish  all 
the  enemies  of  the  gospel !"  exclaimed,  in  a  still  louder 
tone,  the  fanatical  Earl  of  Kent.  Not  a  voice  was 
heard  to  cry  Amen.  Party  feeling  was  absorbed  in 
pity. 


XXVI.— MARY  STUART  AND  HER  MOURNER. 


Mary  Stuart  perished  at  the  age  of  forty-four  years  and  two  months. 
Her  remains  were  taken  from  her  weeping  servants,  and  a  green  cloth, 
torn  in  haste  irom  an  old  bilUard-table,  was  flung  over  her  once  beau- 
tiful form,  Thus  it  remained  unwatched  and  unattended,  except  by 
a  poor  little  lap-dog,  which  could  not  be  induced  to  quit  the  body  of 
its  mistress.  This  faithful  little  animal  was  found  dead  two  days  after- 
ward ;  and  the  circumstances  made  such  an  impression  even  on  the* 
hard-hearted  minister  of  Elizabeth,  that  it  was  mentioned  in  the  offi 
ciril  dispatches. —ikfrs.  Jamieson's  "Female  Sovereigns." 

1.  The  ax  its  bloody  work  had  done ; 

The  corpse  neglected  lay ; 
This  peopled  world  could  spare  not  one 
To  watch  beside  the  clay. 

2.  The  fairest  work  from  nature's  hand 

That  e'er  on  mortals  shone, — 
A  sunbeam  strayed  from  fairy  land 
To  fade  upon  a  throne ; — 


156  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

3.  The  Venus  of  the  Tomb  whose  form 

Was  destiny  and  death  ; 
The  Siren's  voice  that  stirred  a  storm 
In  each  melodious  breath  ; 

4.  Such  was,  what  now  by  fate  is  hurled 

To  rot,  unwept,  away. 
A  star  has  vanished  from  the  world ; 
And  none  to  miss  the  ray  ! 

5.  Stem  Knox,  that  lonehness  forlorn 

A  harsher  truth  might  teach 
To  royal  pomps,  than  priestly  scorn 
To  royal  sins  can  preach  ! 

6.  No  victims  now  that  lip  can  make  I 

That  hand,  how  powerless  now  I 
O  God  I  and  what  a  king — but  take 
A  bauble  from  the  brow  ? 

7.  The  world  is  full  of  life  and  love ; 

The  world,  methinks,  might  spare 
From  millions,  one  to  watch  above 
The  dust  of  monarchs  there. 

8.  And  not  one  human  eye  I — ^yet  lo  ? 

What  stirs  the  funeral  pall  ? 
What  sound — ^it  is  not  human  woe — 
Wails  moaning  through  the  hall  ? 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  157 

10.  Close  by  tlie  form  mankind  desert, 

One  thing  a  vigil  keeps ; 
More  near  and  near  to  that  still  heart 
It  wistful,  "wondering  creeps. 

11.  It  gazes  on  those  glazed  eyes, 

It  hearkens  for  a  breath — 
It  does  not  know  that  kindness  dies, 
And  love  departs  from  death. 

12.  It  fawns  as  fondly  as  before 

Upon  that  icy  hand ; 
And  hears  from  lips  that  speak  no  more 
The  voice  that  can  command. 

13.  To  that  poor  fool,  alone  on  earth, 

No  matter  what  had  been 
The  pomp,  the  fall,  the  guilt,  the  worth. 
The  Dead  Was  still  a  Queen. 

14.  With  eyes  that  horror  could  not  scare, 

It  watch'd  the  senseless  clay ; 
Crouch'd  on  the  breast  of  Death,  and  there 
Moaned  its  fond  life  away. 

15.  And  when  the  bolts  discordant  clashed, 

And  human  steps  drew  nigh, 
The  human  pity  shrunk  abashed 
Before  that  faithful  eye  ; 

16.  It  seemed  to  gaze  with  such  rebuke 

On  those  who  could  forsake  ; 
^J'hen  turned  to  watch  once  more  the  look, 
And  strive  the  sleep  to  w.ike. 


158  THE   IIFTH   READER. 

17.  They  raised  the  pall — they  touched  the  dead, 

A  cry,  and  hoth  were  stilled — 

Alike  the  soul  that  Hate  had  sped, 

The  life  that  Love  had  killed. 

18.  Semiramis  of  England,  hail ! 

Thy  crime  secures  thy  sway ; 
But  when  thine  eyes  shall  scan  the  tale 
Those  hireling  scribes  convey . 

19.  When  thou  shalt  read,  with  late  remorse 

How  one  poor  slave  was  found 

Beside  thy  butchered  rival's  corse, 

The  headless  and  discrowned ; 

20.  Shall  not  thy  soul  foretell  thine  own 

Unloved,  expiring  hour, 
"When  those  who  kneel  around  the  throne 
Shall  fly  the  falling  tower  ! 

21 .  When  thy  great  heart  shall  silent  break, 

When  thy  sad  eyes  shall  strain 
Through  vacant  space,  one  thing  to  seek — 
One  thing  that  loved — in  vain  ? 

22.  Though  round  thy  parting  pangs  of  pride 

Shall  priest  and  noble  crowd ; 
More  worth  the  grief,  that  mourned  beside 
Thy  victim's  gory  shroud  1 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  15^ 

XXVIL-JOAN  OF  AEG. 

LINGAED. 

1.  This  interesting  female  was  born  about  the  yoar 
1412.  Her  education  did  not  differ  from  that  of  the 
other  poor  girls  in  the  neighborhood  ;  but  she  was  dis- 
tinguished above  them  all  bj  her  diligence,  modesty, 
and  piety. 

2.  Near  Domremy  was  a  solitary  chapel,  called  the 
Hermitage  of  the  Virgin.  Joan  was  accustomed  to  visit 
this  hermitage  every  Saturday,  and  to  hang  up  a  gar- 
land of  flowers,  or  burn  a  taper  of  wax  in  honor  of  the 
mother  of  Christ.  These,  her  early  habits,  are  worthy 
of  notice,  as  they  probably  served  to  impress  on  her 
mind  that  romantic  character  which  it  afterward  ex- 
hibited. The  child  was  fond  of  solitude  ;  whatever 
interested  her  became  the  subject  of  long  and  serious 
thought ;  and  in  these  day-dreams  the  young  en- 
thusiast learned  to  invest  with  visible  forms  the  crea- 
tions of  her  own  fancy. 

3.  Besides  religion,  there  was  another  sentiment 
which  sprang  up  in  the  breast  of  Joan.  Young  as  she 
was,  she  had  heard  enough  of  the  calamities  which  op- 
pressed her  country,  to  bewail  the  hard  fate  of  her 
sovereign,  driven  from  the  throne  of  his  fathers.  It 
chanced  that  in  V^ay,  1428,  a  marauding  party  of  Bur- 
gundians  compelled  the  inhabitants  of  Domremy  to 
seek  an  asylum  in  Neufchateau.  The  village  was 
plundered,  and  the  chtirch  reduced  to  a  heap  of  ruins 


160  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

4.  On  their  departure  the  fugitives  returned,  and 
the  sight  wound  up  the  enthusiasm  of  Joan  to  the 
highest  pitch.  She  escaped  from  her  parents,  pre- 
vailed on  an  uncle  to  accompany  her,  and  announced 
her  mission  to  Baudricourt,  one  of  the  French  gen- 
erals, who,  though  he  treated  her  with  ridicule,  deemed 
it  his  duty  to  communicate  her  history  to  the  dauphin, 
and  received  an  order  to  forward  her  to  the  French 
court.  To  travel  a  distance  of  one  hun(h:ed  and  fifty 
leagues,  through  a  long  tract  of  country,  of  which  one 
portion  was  possessed  by  hostile  garrisons,  and  the 
other  perpetually  infested  by  parties  of  plunderers,  was 
a  perilous  and  almost  hopeless  attempt. 

5.  But  Joan  was  confident  of  success ;  on  horseback, 
and  in  male  attire,  with  an  escort  of  seven  persons, 
she  passed  without  meeting  an  enemy;  and  on  the 
tenth  day  at  Fierbois  (feer-hwah^),  a.  few  miles  from 
Chinon  (slie-nongf),  announced  to  'Charles  her  arrival 
and  object.  An  hour  was  fixed  for  her  admission  to 
the  royal  presence ;  and  the  poor  maiden  of  Domremy 
was  ushered  into  a  spacious  hall,  lighted  up  with  fifty 
torches,  and  filled  with  some  hundreds  of  knights, 
among  whom  Charles  himself  had  mixed  unnoted,  and 
in  plain  attire. 

6.  Joan  entered  without  embarrassment ;  the  glare 
of  the  Hghts,  the  gaze  of  the  spectators  did  not  dis- 
concert her.  Singling  out  the  dauphin  at  the  first 
glance,  she  walked  up  to  him  with  a  firrxi  step,  bent  liei 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  161 

knee,  and  said,  "  God  give  you  good  life,  gentle  king.' 
He  was  surprised,  but  replied,  "  I  am  not  the  king,  he 
is  there,"  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  a  different  part 
of  the  hall.  "In  the  name  of  God,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  it  is  not  they,  but  you  are  the  king.  Most  noble  lord 
dauphin,  I  am  Joan  the  maid,  sent  on  the  part  of  God 
to  aid  you  and  the  kingdom ;  and  by  His  order  I  an- 
nounce to  you  that  you  will  be  crowned  in  the  city  of 
Rheims  {ranzj.'" 

7.  The  following  day  she  made  her  appearance  in 
public,  and  on  horseback.  From  her  look,  she  was 
thought  to  be  in  her  sixteenth  or  seventeenth  year ; 
lier  figure  was  slender  and  graceful,  and  her  long  black 
locks  fell  in  ringlets  on  her  shoulders.  She  ran  a 
course  with  the  lance,  and  managed  her  horse  with 
ease  and  dexterity.  The  crowd  burst  into  shouts  of 
admiration  ;  they  saw  in  her  something  more  than  hu- 
man ;  she  was,  they  thought,  a  knight  descended  from 
heaven,  for  the  salvation  of  France.  Men  of  every 
rank  caught  the  enthusiasm,  and  thousands  offered 
their  services  to  follow  her  to  battle. 

8.  Sixty  bastiles  or  forts,  erected  in  a  circle  round 
Orleans,  had  effectually  intercepted  the  communication 
with  the  country ;  and  the  horrors  of  famine  were  al- 
ready felt  within  the  walls,  when  it  was  resolved  by  the 
French  cabinet  to  make  a  desperate  effort  to  throw  a 
supply  of  pi'ovisions  into  the  city.  A  strong  body  of 
men,   under    some  of  the   bravest   officers  in  France, 


162  THE  FIFTH  BEADEK. 

assembled  at  Blois  (blwaJi),  and  Joan  solicited  and  ob- 
tained permission  not  onlj  to  join,  but  also  to  direct, 
the  expedition. 

9.  To  the  English  commanders  she  sent  orders,  in 
the  name  of  God,  to  withdraw  from  France,  and  return 
to  their  native  country.  Dunois  (doo-nwah^J,  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Orleans,  led  her  secretly  into  that  city,  where 
she  was  received  by  the  citizens,  with  lighted  torches 
and  acclamations  of  joy.  Her  presence  created  in  the 
soldiers  a  spirit  of  daring,  and  a  confidence  of  success. 
Day  after  day  sallies  were  made,  and  the  strongest  of 
the  English  forts  successively  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
assailants. 

10.  One  day,  while  she  was  in  the  act  of  planting  a 
ladder,  an  arrow  passed  through  an  opening  in  her 
corslet,  and  fixed  itself  between  the  chest  and  the 
shoulder.  Her  companions  conveyed  her  out  of  the 
crowd,  the  wound  was  dressed,  and  the  heroine,  after 
a  few  minutes  spent  in  prayer,  rejoined  the  combatants. 
At  her  appearance  the  assailants  redoubled  their  ef- 
forts and  the  fort  was  soon  won. 

11.  Suffolk,  disconcerted  by  repeated  losses,  deter- 
mined to  raise  the  siege ;  and  the  soldiers,  with  feel- 
ings of  shame  and  regret,  turned  their  backs  to  the 
city.  The  Earl  of  Suffolk  was  soon  besieged  in  a 
neighboring  town,  and  the  place  was  carried  by  storm. 
Mo)'e  than  three  hundred  of  the  garrison  perished ; 
and  Suffolk,  with  the  remainder,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  1G3 

XXVin.-JOAN  Ox>  AEC— Continued, 

I.  Joan  had  always  declared  that  the  object  of  her 
iia*«sion  was  twofold :  the  liberation  of  Orleans,  and  the 
coronation  of  the  king  at  Rheims.  Of  these  the  first 
had  been  accomplished;  and  she  vehemently  urged 
the  execution  of  the  second.  Though  to  penetrate  as 
far  as  Bheims  was  an  enterprise  of  difficulty  and  dan- 
ger, for  every  intermediate  fortress  was  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  enemy,  Charles  determined  to  trust  to  his 
own  fortune  and  the  predictions  of  his  inspired  de- 
liverer. 

2.  Having  sent  a  strong  division  of  troops  to  alarm 
the  frontiers  J>i  Normandy,  and  another  to  insult  those 
of  Guienne,  he  commenced  his  march  with  an  army  of 
ten  thousand  ctivalry.  The  citizens  of  Rheims  having 
expelled  the  Burgundian  garrison,  received  him  with 
the  most  flattering  testimonies  of  joy.  The  coronation 
was  perfoxmedr4nHii(rTrSTmhT3ftanner ;  but  as  none  of 
the  peers  ol^ance  attended.  Charles  appointed  j)roxies 
to  perform  their  duties.  During  the  ceremony,  Joan, 
with  her  banner  imfurled,  stood  by  the  king's  side; 
as  soon  as  it  was  over,  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees, 
embraced  his  feet,  declared  her  mission  accomplished, 
and  with  tears  solicited  his  leave  to  return  to  her 
former  station, 

3  But  the  king  was  unwilling  to  lose  the  services  oi 
one  who  had  hitherto  proved  so  useful ;  and  at  his 
earnest    request    she   consented  to   remain  with   the 


164  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

aimy,  &nd  to  strengthen  that  throne  which  she  had  in 
a  great  measure  estabhshed.  Bedford  obtained  fresh 
assurances  of  fidelity  from  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
withdrew  five  thousand  men  from  his  Norman  garri- 
sons, and  received  an  equal  number  from  his  uncle 
Beaufort.  With  these  he  went  in  pursuit  of  Charles, 
who  was  unwilling  to  stake  his  crown  on  the  uncertain 
event  of  a  battle. 

4.  In  the  neighborhood  of  Senlis,  however,  the  two 
armies  undesignedly  came  in  sight  of  each  other. 
The  English,  inferior  in  numbers,  prepared  for  the 
fight  after  their  usual  manner ;  the  French  officers, 
flushed  with  success,  impatiently  demanded  the  signal 
for  battle.  But  the  defeats  of  Agincourt  and  Verneuil 
led.  Charles  not  to  rely  on  mere  superiority  of  num- 
ber. The  armies  separated  as  if  it  had  been  by  mutual 
consent.  The  regent  hastened  into  Normandy,  and 
Charles,  at  the  soUcitation  of  his  female  companion, 
took  advantage  of  the  duke's  absence  to  make  an  at- 
tempt on  the  capital.  Soisson,  Senlis,  Beauvais,  and 
St.  Denis  opened  their  gates.  He  advanced  to  Mont- 
martre,  published  an  amnesty,  and  directed  assault  on 
the  Fauxbourg  of  St.  Honore. 

5.  The  action  lasted  four  hours.  At  its  very  com  • 
mencement  Joan  received  a  dangerous  wound,  was 
thrown  into  the  ditch,  and  lay  there  unnoticed  till  she 
was  discovered  in  the  evening,  and  carried  off  by  a 
party  sent  in  search  after  her.     Charles,  mortified  b^' 


THE   rirTH   KEADER.  165 

tho  obstinate  resistance  of  the  Parisians,  retired  to 
Bourges  ;  while  the  maid,  looking  on  her  wound  as  an 
admonition  from  heaven  that  her  commission  had 
ceased  with  the  coronation  at  Eheims,  consecrated  her 
armor  to  God  in  the  church  at  St.  Denis.  Her  ser- 
vices, however,  were  still  wanted.  At  the  solicitation 
of  her  sovereign,  she  consented  to  resume  the  profes- 
sion of  arms,  and  accepted  a  patent  of  nobility  for  her- 
self and  her  family,  accompanied  with  a  grant  of  in- 
come equal  to  that  of  an  earl. 

6.  At  the  commencement  of  spring,  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy  undertook  to  reduce  the  city  of  Compeigne 
( com-pe-oirC )  ;  and  the  maid  was  selected  to  raise  the 
siege.  Her  troops  were  defeated,  however ;  she  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  was  handed  over  to  the  regent, 
Bedford.  The  unfortunate  maid  was  treated  with 
neglect  by  her  friends,  with  cruelty  by  her  enemies. 
If  ever  prince  had  been  indebted  to  a  subject,  Charles 
YII.  was  indebted  to  Joan  d'Arc  ;  yet  from  the  mo- 
nient  of  her  captivity  she  appears  to  have  been  for- 
gotten. We  read  not  of  any  sum  offered  for  her  ran- 
som, or  attempt  made  to  alleviate  the  rigor  of  her  con- 
finement, or  notice  taken  of  her  trial  and  execution. 

7.  The  Bishop  of  Beauvias  (ho-va' ),  in  whose  dio- 
cese she  had  been  taken,  claimed  the  right  of  trying 
her  in  his  court  on  an  accusation  of  sorcery  and  im- 
posture. It  is  generally  supposed  that  this  claim  Avaa 
made  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford.     The 


iG6  THE   FIFTH   EEADEll. 

inquiry  was  opened  at  Rouen  (roo'dng)  ;  on  sixteen 
different  days  slie  was  brought  to  the  bar  ;  the  ques- 
tions, with  her  answers,  were  laid  before  the  University 
of  Paris;  and  the  opinion  of  that  body  concurred 
with  the  judgment  of  the  court.  Still  the  sentence 
way  delayed  from  day  to  day ;  and  repeated  attempts 
were  made  to  s.ive  her  from  the  punishment  of  death, 
by  inducing  her  to  make  a  frank  and  explicit^  con- 
fession. 

8.  But  the  spirit  of  the  heroine  continued  undaunt' 
ed ;  she  proudly  maintained  that  she  had  been  the  in- 
spired minister  of  the  Almighty.  The  fatal  day,  how- 
ever, arrived  ;  and  the  captive  was  placed  at  the  bar  ; 
but  when  the  judge  had  prepared  to  pronounce  sen- 
tence, she  yielded  to  a  sudden  impulse  of  terror,  sub- 
scribed an  act  of  abjuration,  and,  having  promised  upon 
oath  never  more  to  wear  male  attire,  was  remanded  to 
her  former  place  of  confinement. 

9.  Her  enthusiasm,  however,  revived  in  the  solitude 
of  a  prison,  and  her  judges  condemned  her,  on  tho 
charge  of  having  relapsed  into  her  former  errors.  She 
was  led  sobbing  and  struggHng  to  the  stake;  but  thd 
expectation  of  a  heavenly  deliverer  did  not  forsake  tor 
though  she  saw  the  fire  kindled  at  her  feet.  She  tL  en 
burst  into  loud  exclamations,  protesting  her  ir:io- 
cence,  and  invoking  the  aid  of  the  Almighty ;  and  just 
before  the  flames  enveloped  her,  was  seen  embra  iing 
a  ciucifix,  and  calling  on  Christ  for  mercy.     This  rruol 


THE   FIFTH    READER  107 

and  unjustifiable  tragedy  was  enacted  ia  tlie  market- 
place of  Rouen,  before  an  immense  concourse  of  spec- 
tators, about  twelve  months  after  her  capture  (1431). 

Nothing  was  gained  by  this  ruthless  execution  of  the  "Maid  of 
Orleans."  The  Duke  of  Bedford  died  (1435),  and  Charles  was  enabkui 
to  re-enter  his  capital,  after  having  been  excluded  from  it  for  twenty 
years  (1437).  The  EngUsh  continued  to  suffer  defeat,  until,  finally, 
this  long  war  was  interrupted  by  a  truce  (1447)  ;  and  subsequently 
the  French  gained  all  their  possessions  except  Calais  (1451). 


XXIX.— WORK  Am)  REST. 

ANON. 

1.  Home!    Is  this  home,  where  she   sits  cold,  and 

lonely, 
Working,  still  working,  morning  till  night  ? 
Life  !     Is  this  life,  which  is  pain  and  pain  omly — 
Only  dark  shadows,  not  one  gleam  of  light  ? 

2.  Pale,  haggard  cheeks,  frozen,  comfortless  fingers ; 

Eyes  wild  with  watching,  head  yearning  for  rest. 
Working,  still  working,  each  moment  she  lingers 
Takes  bread  from  the  baby  she  warms  at  hoj 
breast. 

3.  Gazing  at  palaces  through  the  dim  casement, 

(Palace  so  splendid  through  casement  so  mean !) 
Nothing  but  w^ork  in  the  garret  and  basement — 
Nothing  but  rest  and  enjoyment  between  ! 


1G8  THE   FIFTH    ftEADETu 

i.  O  ye  rich  happy  ones,  give  her  your  pity, 
Working,  still  working,  so  wearily  on ; 
Look  at  her  withered  face— once  it  was  pretty ; 
Youth  is  still  hers,  but  its  semblance  is  gone. 

5.  Could  7/ou  be  patient,  and  good,  and  enduring, 

If  your  high  station  was  bound  to  her  doom  ? 
Earth  is  so  sweet  for  you — fair  and  alluring ; 
Earth  is  so  hard  for  her — shrouded  in  gloom. 

6.  Open  your  hearts  to  her,  open  your  purses. 

From  your  abundance  give  money  and  love ; 

Let  not  your  happy  homes  prove  to  you  curses. 

Dragging  you  down  from  the  heaven  above. 

7.  What!    Were  you  sent  to  this  earth  for  youi 

pleasure  ? 
Stewards  of  His  riches,  awake  and  bestir ; 
You  shall  be  judged  by  the  measure  for  measure 
Happy,  perhaps,  to  change  places  with  her ! 


XXX.— BLIGHT  AND  BLOOM. 

OlSOROE   H.   MILES. 

1.  Did  we  not  bury  them  ? 

All  those  dead  years  of  ours, 

All  those  poor  tears  of  ours, 

All  those  pale  pleading  flowers - 

Did  we  not  bury  them  ? 


THE   FIFTH   READER,  169 

2.  Yet,  in  the  gloom  there, 
See  how  they  stare  at  us/ 
Hurling  despair  at  us, 
Bising  to  glare  at  us 

Out  of  the  tomb  there  I 

3.  Curse  every  one  of  them ! 
Kiss,  clasp  and  token, 
Vows  vainly  spoken, 
Hearts  bruised  and  broken — 

Have  we  not  done  with  them  7 

4.  Are  we  such  slaves  to  them  ?— « 
Down  where  the  river  leaps, 
Down  where  the  willow  weeps, 
Down  where  the  lily  sleeps, 

Dig  deeper  graves  for  them. 

6.  Must  we  still  stir  amid 

Ghosts  of  our  buried  youth. 
Gleams  of  life's  morning  truth, 
Spices  and  myrrh,  forsooth  .  .  7 
Seal  up  the  pyramid ! 

6.  Be  still,  my  heart,  beneath  the  rod, 

And  murmur  not ; 
He  too  was  Man — the  Son  of  God— 
And  shared  thy  lot. 

7.  Shared  all  that  we  can  suffer  here. 

The  gain,  the  loss. 
The  bloody  sweat,  the  scourge,  the  sneer 
The  Crown,  the  Cross, 


170  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

8.  TliG  final  terror  of  the  Tomb. — 
His  guiltless  head 
Self-dedicated  to  the  doom 
We  merited. 

9   Then  sigh  not  for  earth's  Edens  lost» 
Time's  vanished  bliss ; 
The  heart  that  suffers  most,  the  most 
Besembles  His. 


-A   DESOEEPTION    OF    THE    BANISHMENT   OF    rHH 
ACADIANS 

PBOM   THEIR  EURAL   HOMES   IN   NOVA   SCOTLA.. 
BANCEOFT. 

1.  By  a  general  proclamation,  on  one  and  the  same 
day,  the  scarcely  conscious  victims,  "both  old  and 
young  men,  as  well  as  all  the  lads  of  ten  years  of 
age,"  were  peremptorily  ordered  to  assemble  at  their 
respective  posts.  On  the  appointed  fifth  of  Septem- 
ber, they  obeyed.  At  Grand  Pre,  for  example,  four 
hundred  and  eighteen  unarmed  men  came  together. 
They  were  marched  into  the  church  and  its  avenues 
were  closed,  when  Winslow,  the  English  commander, 
placed  himself  in  their  center,  and  spoke  : 

2.  "  You  are  convened  together  to  manifest  to  you 
His  Majesty's  iinal  resolution  to  the  French  inhab- 
itants of  this  his  province.  Your  lands  and  tenements, 
cattle  of  all  kinds,  and  live  stock  of  all  sorts,  are  for- 
feited to  the  crown,  and  jou  j-ourselves  are  to  be  i 


J 


THE    FIFTH   READER,  171 

moved  from  tliis  liis  province.  1  am,  through  His 
Majesty's  goodness,  directed  to  allow  you  liberty  to 
carry  off  your  money  and  household  goods,  as  many 
as  you  can,  without  discommoding  the  vessels  you  go 
in."  And  he  then  declared  them  the  King's  prisoners. 
Their  wives  and  families  shared  their  lot ;  their  sons, 
five  hundred  and  twenty-seven  in  number,  their  daugh- 
ters, five  hundred  and  seventy-six ;  in  the  whole,  wo- 
men and  babes  and  old  men  and  children  all  included, 
nineteen  hundred  and  twenty-three  souls.  The  blow 
was  sudden  ;  they  had  left  home  but  for  the  morning, 
and  they  never  were  to  return.  Their  cattle  were  to 
stay  unfed  in  the  stalls,  their  fires  to  die  out  on  their 
hearths.  They  had  for  that  first  day  even  no  food  for 
themselves  or  their  children,  and  were  compelled  to 
beg  for  bread. 

3.  The  10th  of  September  was  the  day  for  the  em  • 
barcation  of  a  part  of  the  exiles.  They  were  drawn 
up  six  deep,  and  the  young  men,  one  hundred  and 
sixty-one  in  number,  were  ordered  to  march  first  on 
board  the  vessel.  They  could  leave  their  farms  and 
cottages,  the  shady  rocks  on  which  they  had  reclined, 
their  herds  and  their  garners;  but  nature  yearned 
within  them,  and  they  w^ould  not  be  separated  from 
their  parents.  Yet  of  what  avail  was  the  frenzied  de- 
spair of  the  unarmed  youth  ?  They  had  not  one 
weapon  ;  the  bayonet  drove  them  to  obey ;  and  they 
marched  slowly  and  heavily  from  the  chapel  to  the 


172  THE  FIFTH   KEADEIl. 

shore,  between  women  and  cliildren,  who,  kneeling, 
prayed  for  blessings  on  their  heads,  they  themselves 
weeping,  and  praying,  and  singing  hymns.  The  seniors 
were  next ;  the  wives  and  children  must  wait  till  other 
transport  vessels  arrive. 

4.  The  delay  had  its  horrors.  The  wretched  people 
left  behind,  were  kept  together  near  the  sea,  without 
proper  food,  or  raiment,  or  shelter,  till  other  ships 
came  to  take  them  away  ;  and  December,  with  its  ap- 
palling cold,  had  struck  the  shivering,  half-clad, 
bioken-hearted  sufferers,  before  the  last  of  them  were 
removed  "  The  embarcation  of  the  inhabitants  goes 
on  but  slowly,"  wrote  Monckton,  from  Fort  Cumber- 
land, near  which  he  had  burned  three  hamlets ;  "  the 
most  part  of  the  wives  of  the  men  we  have  prisoners 
are  gone  off  with  their  children,  in  hopes  I  would  not 
send  off  their  husbands  without  them."  Their  hope 
was  vain.  Near  Annapolis,  a  hundred  heads  of  fami- 
lies fled  to  the  woods,  and  a  party  was  detached  on  the 
hunt  to  bring  them  in.  "Our  soldiers  hate  them," 
wrote  an  officer  on  this  occasion,  "  and  if  they  can  but 
find  a  pretext  to  kill  them,  they  will."  Did  a  prisoner 
seek  to  escape  ?     He  was  shot  down  by  the  sentinel ! 

6.  Yet  some  fled  to  Quebec ;  more  than  three  thou- 
sand had  withdrawn  to  Miramichi,  and  the  region 
south  of  the  Ristigouche ;  some  found  rest  on  the 
banks  of  the  St.  John's  and  its  branches ;  some  found 
a  lair  in  their  native  forests ;  some  were  charitably 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  173 

sholtered  from  the  Englisli  in  the  wigwams  of  the  sav- 
ages. But  seven  thousand  of  these  banished  people 
were  driven  on  board  ships,  and  scattered  among  the 
English  Colonies,  from  New  Hampshire  to  Georgia 
alone,  one  thousand  and  twenty  to  South  Carolina 
alone.  They  were  cast  ashore  without  resources  ; 
hating  the  poor-house  as  a  sheltei  .cr  their  offspring, 
and  abhorring  the  thought  of  selling  themselves  as  la- 
borers. Households  too  were  separated  ;  the  colo- 
nial newspapers  contained  advertisements  oi  memoera 
of  families  seeking  their  companions,  of  sons  anxious 
to  reach  and  relieve  their  parents,  of  mothers  mourning 
for  their  children. 

6.  The  wanderers  sighed  for  their  native  country : 
but,  to  prevent  their  return,  their  villages,  from  Annap- 
olis to  the  isthmus,  were  laid  waste.  Their  old  homes 
were  but  ruins.  In  the  district  of  Maine,  for  instance, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  of  their  houses,  and  more  than 
as  many  barns,  were  consumed.  The  live  stock  which 
belonged  to  them,  consisting  of  great  numbers  of 
horned  cattle,  hogs,  sheep,  and  horses,  were  seized  as 
spoils  and  disposed  of  by  the  English  officials.  A 
I  >eautiful  and  fertile  tract  of  country  was  reduced  to  a 
solitude.  There  was  none  left  round  the  ashes  of  the 
cottages  of  the  Acadian  s  but  the  faithful  watch-dog, 
vainly  seeking  the  hands  that  fed  him.  Thickets  of 
forest-trees  choked  their  orchards :  the  ocean  broke 
over  their  neglected  dykes,  and  desolated  their  meadows. 


174  THE  FIFTH   HEADER. 

XXXn. -EVANGELINK 

LONGFELLOW. 

The  events  related  in  the  preceding  lesson  hare  been  made  by 
Longfellow  the  subject  of  the  following  charming  poem. 

1.  This  is  the  forest  primeval.    The  murmuring  pines 

and  the  hemlocks, 

Bearded  with  moss,  and  in  garments  green,  indistinct 
in  the  twilight, 

Stand  like  Druids  of  eld,  with  voices  sad  and  prophetic, 

Stand  like  harpers  hoar,  with  beards  that  rest  on  their 
bosoms. 

Loud  from  its  rocky  caverns,  the  deep-voiced  neighbor- 
ing ocean 

Mpeaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate  answers  the  wail  of 
the  forest 

2.  This  is  the  turest  primeval ;   but  where  are  the 

hearts  that  beneath  it 

Leaped  like  the  roe.  when  he  hears  in  the  woodland 
the  voice  of  the  huntsman  ? 

Where  is  the  thatch-roofed  village,  the  home  of  Aca- 
dian farmers, — 

Men  whose  Kves  ghded  on  like  rivers  that  water  the 
woodlands, 

Darkened  by  shadows  of  earth,  but  reflecting  an  image 
of  heaven  ? 

3.  Waste  are  those  pleasant  farms,  and  the  farmers 
forever  departed  I 


J 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  175 

Scattered  like  dust  and  leaves,  when  the  mighty  blasts 

of  October 
Seize  them,  and  whirl  them  aloft,  and  sprinkle  them  far 

o'er  the  ocean. 
Naught  but  tradition  remains  of  the  beautiful  village 

of  Grand-Pre. 

4.  Ye  who  believe  in  affection  that  hopes,  and  endures, 

and  is  patient, 
Ye  who  believe  in  the  beauty  and  strength  of  woman's 

devotion, 

List  to  the  mournful  tradition  still  sung  by  the  pines 

of  the  forest. 

«  «  «  •  « 


XXXnL— EVANGELINE.  -Continued. 

1.  In  the  Acadian  land,  on  the  shores  of  the  Basin  of 
Minas, 

Distant,  secluded,  still,  the  httle  village  of  Grand-Pre 

Lay,  in  the  fruitful  valley.  Vast  meadows  stretched  to 
the  eastward. 

Giving  the  village  its  name,  and  pasture  to  flocks  with- 
out m-jnber. 

Dykes,  that  the  hands  of  the  farmers  had  raised  with 
labor  incessant. 

Shut  out  the  turbulent  tides  ;  but  at  stated  seasons  the 
flood-gates 


176  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

Opened,  and  welcomed  the  sea  to  wander  at  will  o'er 

the  meadows. 
West  and  south  there  were  fields  of  flax,  a  ad  orchards 

and  cornfields 
Spreading  afar  and  unfenced  o'er  the  plain  ;  and  away 

to  the  northward 
Blomidon  rose,  and  the  forests  old,  and  aloft  on  the 

mountains 
Sea-fogs  pitched  their  tents,  and  mists  from  the  mighty 

Atlantic 
Looked  on  the  happy  valley,  but  ne'er  fi-om  their 

station  descended. 
There,  in  the  midst  of  its  farms,  reposed  the  AcadiaD 

Tillage. 
Strongly  built  were  the  houses,  with  frames  of  oak  and 

chestnut. 
Such  as  the  peasants  of  Normandy  built  in  the  reign 

of  the  Henries. 
Thatched  were  the  roofs,  with  dormer-windows ;  and 

gables  projecting 
Over  the  basement  below,  protected  and  shaded  the 

doorway. 
There,  in   the   tranquil    evenings   of    summer,   when 

brightly  the  sunset 
Lighted  the  village  street,  and  gilded  the  vanes  on  the 

chimneys, 
Matrons  and  maidens  sat  in  snow-white  caps  and  in 
kirtles 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  177 

Scarlet  and  blue  and  green,  with  distaffs  spinning  the 

golden 
Flax  for  the  gossiping  looms,  whose  noisy  shuitles 

within  doors 
Mingled  their  sound  with  the  whir  of  the  wheels  and 

the  songs  of  the  maidens. 
Solemnly  down  the  street  came  the  parish  priest,  and 

the  children 
Paused  in  their  play  to  kiss  fche  hand  he  extended  to 

bless  them. 
Reverend  walked  he  among  them ;  and  up  rose  matrons 

and  maidens, 
Hailing  his  slow  approach  with  words  of  affectionate 

welcome. 
Then  came  the  laborers  home  from  the  field,   and 

serenely  the  sun  sank 
Down  to  his  rest,  and  twihght  prevailed.     Anon  from 

the  belfry 
Softly  the  Angelus  sounded,  and  over  the  roofs  of  the 

village 
Columns  of  pale  blue  ^moke,  like  clouds  ol  incense 

ascending, 
Tlose  from  a  hundred  hearths,  the  homes  of  peace  and 

contentment. 
Thus  dwelt  together  in  love  these  simple  Acadian  far- 
mers,— 
Dwelt  in  the  love  of  God  and  of  man.    Alike  were  they 

free  from 


178  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Fear,  that  reigns  with  the  tyrant,  and  envy,  the  vice  of 

republics. 
Neither  locks  had  they  to  their  doors,  nor  bars  to  their 

windows ; 
But  their  dwellings  were  open  as  day  and  the  hearts  of 

the  owners ; 
There  the  richest  was  poor,  and  the  poorest  lived  in 

abundance. 
2.  Somewhat  apart  from  the  village,  and  nearer  the 

Basin  of  Minas, 
Benedict  Bellefontaine,  the  wealthiest  farmer  of  Grand- 

Pre; 
Dwelt  on  his  goodly  acres  ;  and  with  him,  directing  his 

household, 
Gentle  Evangeline  lives,  his  child,  and  the  pride  of  the 

village. 
Stalworth  and  stately  in  form  was  the  man  of  seventy 

winters ; 
Hearty  and  hale  was  he,  an  oak  that  is  covered  with 

snow-flakes ; 
White  as  the  snow  were  his  locks,  and  his  cheeks  as 

brown  as  the  oak-leaves. 
Fair  was  she  to  behold,  that  maiden  of  seventeen  sum- 
mers. 
Black  were  her  eyes  as  the  berry  that  grows  on  the 

thorn  by  the  wayside, 
Black,  yet  how  softly  they  gleamed,  beneath  the  brown 

shada  of  lier  tresses  ! 


THE  FIFPH    HEADER.  179 

Sweet  was  her  breatli  as  tlie  breath  of  kine  that  feed  in 

the  meadows. 
When  in  the  harvest  heat  she  bore  to  the  reapers  at 

noontide 
Flagons  of  home-brewed  ale,  ah  !  fair  in  sooth  was  the 

maiden. 
Fairei  was  she  when,  on  Sunday  mom,  while  the  bell 

from  its  turret 
Sprinkled  with  holy  sounds  the  air,  as  the  priest  with 

his  hyssop 
Sprinkles  the  congregation,  and  scatters  blessings  upon 

them, 
Down  the  long  street  she  passed,  with  her  chaplet  of 

beads  and  her  missal, 
Wearing  her  Norman  cap,  and  her  kirtle  of  blue,  and 

the  ear-rings. 
Brought  in  the  olden  time  from  France,  and  since,  aa 

an  heirloom, 
Handed   down  from   mother  to   child,   through  long 

generations. 
But  a  celestial  brightness — a  more  ethereal  beauty — 
Shone  on  her  face  and  encircled  her  form,  when  after 

confession. 
Homeward  serenely  she  walked  with  God's  benediction 

upon  her. 
When  she  had  passed,  it  seemed  like  the  ceasing  of 
exquisite  music. 


180  THE  FIFTH   EEADER. 

3.  Firmly  builded  with  rafters  of  oak,  the  house  ol 

the  farmer 
Stood  on  the  side  of  a  hill  commanding  the  sea ;  and  a 

shady 
Sycamore  grew  by  the  door,  with  a  woodbine  wreath- 
ing around  it. 
Rudely  carved  was  the  porch,  with  seats  beneath ;  and 

a  footpath 
Led  through  an  orchard  wide,  and  disappeared  in  the 

meadow. 
Under  the  sycamore  -  tree  were  hives  overhung  by  a 

penthouse. 
Such  as  the  traveler  sees  in  regions  remote  by  the 

roadside. 
Built  o'er  a  box  for  the  poor,  or  the  blessed  image  of 

Mary. 
Farther  down,  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  was  the  well 

with  its  moss-grown 
Bucket,  fastened  with  iron,  and  near  it  a  trough  for 

the  horses. 
Shielding  the  house  from  storms,  on  the  north,  were 

the  bams  and  the  farm-yard. 
There  stood  the  broad-wheeled  wains  and  the  antique 

plows  and  the  harrows  ; 
There  were  the  folds  for  the  sheep  ;  and  there,  in  his 

feathered  seragho. 
Strutted  the  lordly  turkey,  ^.nd  c?:owed  ^h^  Cppk,  witli 

the  self-same 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  l81 

Voice  that  in  ages  of  old  had  startled  the  penitent 
Peter. 

Bursting  with  hay  were  the  bams,  themselves  a  village. 
In  each  one 

Far  o'er  the  gable  projected  a  roof  of  thatch ;  and  a 
staircase, 

Under  the  sheltering  eaves,  led  up  to  the  odorous  corn- 
loft. 

There  too  the  dove-cot  stood,  with  its  meek  and  inno- 
cent inmates 

Murmuring  ever  of  love ;  while  above  in  the  variant 
breezes 

Numberless  noisy  weathercocks  rattled  and  sang  of 
mutatioQ. 

rhus,  at  peace  with  God  and  the  world,  the  farmer  of 
Grand-Pre 

Lived  on  his  sunny  ^arm,  and  Evangeline  governbd 
his  househi>M. 


182  THE  FIFTH   READER, 


XyXTTT  (a).— EVANGELINK— OoOTnnJED. 


*      •    Young  Gabriel  only  was  welcome  ; 
OaWioI  Lajeunesse,  the  son  of  Basil  the  blacksmith, 
"Who  WHS  a  mighty  man  in  the  village,  and  honored  of 

all  men : 
For,  since  the  birth  of  time,  throughout  all  ages  and 

nations, 
Has  the  craft  of  the  smith  been  held  in  repute  by  the 

people. 
Basil  was  Benedict's    friend.      Their  children    from 

earliest  childhood 
Grew  up  together  as  brother  and  sister ;  and  Father 

Felician, 
Priest  and  pedagogue  both  in  the  village,  had  taught 

them  their  letters 
Out  of  the  self-same  book,  with   the  hymns  of  the 

church  and  the  plain-song. 
But  when  the  hymn  was  sung,   and  the  daily  lesson 

completed, 
bwiftly  they  hurried  away  to  the  forge  of  Basil  the 

blacksmith. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  183 

There  at  the  door  they  stood,  with  wondering  eyes  to 

behold  him 
Take  in  his  leathern  lap  the  hoof  of  the  horse  as  a 

plaything, 
Nailing  the  shoe  in  its  place  ;  while  near  him  the  tire 

of  the  cart-wheel 
Lay  like  a  fiery  snake,  coiled  round  in  a  circle  of  cin- 
ders. 
Oft  on  autumnal  eves,  when  without  in  the  gathering 

darkness 
Bursting  wdth  light  seemed  the  smithy,  through  every 

cranny  and  crevice, 
Warm  By  the  forge  within  they  watched  the  laboring 

bellows. 
And  as  its  panting  ceased,  and  the  sparks  expired  in 

the  ashes. 
Merrily  laughed,  and  said  they  were  nuns  going  into 

the  chapel. 
Oft  on  sledges  in  winter,  as  swift  as  the  swoop  of  the 

eagle, 
Down  the  hillside  bounding,  they  glided  away  o'er  the 

meadow. 
Oft  in  the  barns  they  climbed  to  the  populous  nests  on 

the  rafters. 
Seeking  with  eager  eyes  that  wondrous  stone,  which 

the  swallow 
Brings  from  the  shore  of  the  sea  to  restore  the  sight 

of  its  fledglings : 


184  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Lucky  was  he  wlio  found  that  stone  in  the  nest  of  tho 

swallow  1 
Thus  passed  a  few  swift  years,  and  they  no  longer  were 

children. 
He  was  a  valiant  youth,  and  his  face,  like  the  face  of 

the  morning, 
Gladdened  the  earth  with  its  light,  and  ripened  thought 

into  action. 
She  was  a  woman  now,  with  the  heart  and  hopes  of  a 

woman. 
"  Sunshine  of  Saint  EulaHe"  was  she  called ;  for  that 

was  the  sunshine 
Which,   as  the  farmers  believed,  would    load    their 

orchards  with  apples ; 

She,  too,  would  bring  to  her  husband's  house  delight 

and  abundance. 

*  *  «  •  • 


XXXIV.  —EVANGELINE.  —Continued. 

1.  Now  had  the  season  returned,  when  the  night  a 

grow  colder  and  longer. 
And  the  retreating  sun  the  sign  of  the  Scorpion  enters 
Birds  of  passage  sailed  through  the  leaden  air,  from 

the  ice-bound. 
Desolate  northern    bays    to    the   shores    of    tro,  icaJ 

island:}. 


THE   FIFTH   READEIl.  18?I 

Earvests  were  gatliered  iu ;  and  wild  with  the  winds  of 

September 
Wrestled  the  trees  of  the  forest,  as  Jacob  of  old  with 

the  angel. 
A-ll  the  signs  foretold  a  winter  long  and  inclement. 
Bees,  with  prophetic  instinct   of  want,  had  hoarded 

their  honey 
Till  the  hives  overflowed ;   and  the  Indian  hunters 

asserted 
Cold  would  the  winter  be,  for  thick  was  the  fur  of  the 

foxes. 
Such  was  the  advent  of  autumn.     Then  followed  that 

beautiful  season, 
Called  by  the  pious  Acadian  peasants  the  Summer  of 

All-Saints! 
Filled  was  the  air  with  a  dreamy  and  magical  light ; 

and  the  landscape 
Lay  as  if  new-created  in  all  the  freshness  of  childhood. 
Peace  seemed  to  reign  upon   earth,  and  the  restless 

heart  of  the  ocean 
Was  for  a  moment  consoled.      All  sounds  were  in 

harmony  blended. 
Voices  of  children  at  play,  the  crowing  of  cocks  in  the 

farm-yards, 
Whir  of  wings  in  the  drowsy  air,  and  the  cooing  of 

pigeons. 
All  were  subdued  and  low  as  the  murmurs  of  love,  and 

the  great  sun 


-\ 


186  THE  FIFTH   READElt. 

Looked  with  the  eye  of   love  through    the   golden 

vapors  tiround  him ; 
While  arrayed  in  its  robes  of  russet  and  scarlet  and 

yellow, 
Bright  with  the  sheen  of  the  dew,  each  gUttering  tree 

of  the  forest 
Flashed  hke  the  plane-tree  the  Persian  adorned  with 

mantles  and  jewels. 
2.  Now  recommenced  the  reign  of  rest  and  affection 

and  stilhiess. 
Day   with  its  burden  and  heat  had  departed,   and 

twilight  descending 
Brought  back  the  evening  star  to  the  sky,  and  the 

herds  to  the  homestead. 
Pawing  the  ground  they  came,  and  resting  their  necks 

on  each  other, 
And  with  their  nostrils  distended  inhaling  the  fresh- 
ness of  evening. 
Foremost,  beariog    the    bell,  Evangeline's  beautiful 

heifer, 
Proud  of  her  snow-white,  and  the  ribbon  that  waved 

from  her  collar, 
Quietly  paced  and  slow,   as  if  conscious  of  human 

affection. 
Then  came  the  shepherd  back  with  his  bleating  flocks 

from  the  seaside, 
Where  was   their  favorite  pasture.     Behind  them  fol- 
lowed the  watcli-dog, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  187 

Patient,  full  of  importance,  and  grand  in  the  pride  o! 

his  instinct, 
Walking  from   side   to   side   with  a  lordly   air,   and 

superbly 
Waving    his    bushy    tail,    and    urging    forward    the 

stragglers  ; 
Begent  of  flocks  was  he  when  the   shepherd   slept  ; 

their  protector, 
When  from   the  forest  at   night,  through  the   starry 

silence,  the  wolves  howled. 
Late,  with  the  rising  moon,  returned  the  wains  from 

the  marshes. 
Laden  with  brmy  hay,  that   filled    the   air  with   its 

odor. 
Cheerily  neighed  the  steeds,  with  dew  on  their  manes 

and  their  fetlocks. 
While  aloft  on  their  shoulders  the  wooden  and  pond- 

ei'ous  saddles. 
Painted  with  brilliant  dyes,  and   adorned  with  tassels 

of  crimson, 
Nodded  in  bright   array,  like  hollyhocks  heavy  with 

blossoms. 
Patiently  stood  the  cows  meanwhile,  and  yielded  their 

udders 
Unto  the  milkmaid's  hand ;  whilst  loud  and  in  regular 

cadence 
Into  the  sounding   pails  the  foaming   streamlets   de- 
scended. 


188  THfJ  FIFTH   READER. 

Lowing  of  cattle  and  peals  ol  ^augliier  were  hearc    in 

the  farm-yard, 
Echoed  back  by  the  barns.     AnoL   they   ^anJi    into 

stillness  ; 
Heavily  closed,  with  a  jarring  sound,  the  valves  of  the 

barn-doors. 
Rattled  the  wooden  bars,  and   ^d  toi   a  season  was 

silent. 
3.  In-doors,  warm  bv   J]e  wide-mouthed  fireplace, 

idly  the  farmer 
Sat  in  his  elbow-cfcaii   and  watched  how  the  flames 

and  the  smoke-wreaths 
Struggled  together  like  L^res  in  a  burning  c]i>      iiei-ind 

him. 
Nodding  and  mocking  along  Mt^.  wan'    with   gestures 

fantastic. 
Darted  his  own  huge  shadow,  and  vanished  away  into 

darkness. 
Faces,  clumsily  carved  in  oak,  on  the  back  of  his  arm- 
chair 
Laughed  in  the  flickering  light,  and  the  pewter  plates 

on  the  dresser 
Caught  and  reflected  the  flame,  as  shields  of  armies 

in  the  sunshine. 
Fragments  of  song  the  old  man  sang,  and  carols  of 

Christmas, 
Such  as  at  home,  in  the  olden  time,  his  fathers  before 

him 


THE   FIFTH    DEADER.  189 

Sang  in  tlieir  Norman  orchards  and  bright  Burgundian 

vineyards. 
Close  at  her  father's  side  was  the  gentle  Evaigeline 

seated, 
Spinning  flax  for  the  loom,  that  stood  in  the  corner 

behind  her. 
Silent  awhile  were  its  treadles,  at  rest  was  its  diligent 

shuttle, 
While  the  monotonous  drone  of  the  wheel,  Hke  the 

drone  of  a  bagpipe. 
Followed  the  old  man's  song,  and  united  the  fragments 

together. 
As  in  a  church,  when  the  chant  of  the  choir  at  in- 
tervals ceases. 
Footfalls  are  heard  in  the  aisles,  or  words  of  the  priest 

at  the  altar,  * 

So,  in  each  pause  of  the  song,  with  measured  motion 
the  clock  clicked. 
4.  Thus  as  they  sat,  there  were  footsteps  heard,  and, 

suddenly  hfted. 
Sounded  the  wooden  latch,  and  the  door  swung  back 

on  its  hinges. 
Benedict  knew  by  the  hob-nailed  shoes  it  was  Basil  the 

blacksmith. 
And  by  her  beating  heart  Evangeline  knew  who  was 

with  him. 
**  Welcome  !"  the  farmer  exclaimed,  as  their  footsteps 

paused  on  the  threshold, 


190  -  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

"  Welcome,  Basil,  my  friend !     Come,  take  thy  place  on 

tlie  settle 
Close  by  the  chimney-side,  which  is  always  empty  with- 
out thee ; 
Take  from  the  shelf  overhead  thy  pipe  and  the  box  of 

tobacco ; 
Never  so  much  thyself  art  thou  as  when,  through  the 

curling 
Smoke  of  the  pipe  or  the  forge,  thy  friendly  and  jovial 

face  gleams 
Round  and  red  as  the  harvest  moon  through  the  mist 

of  the  marshes." 
Then,  with  a  smile  of  content,  thus  answered  Basil  the 

blacksmith. 
Taking  with  easy  air  the  accustomed  seat  by  the  fire- 
side : 
"Benedict  Bellefontaine,  thou  hast  ever  thy  jest  and 

thy  ballad ! 
Ever  in  cheerfulest  mood  art  thou,  when  others  are 

filled  with 
Gloomy  forebodings  of  ill,  and  see  only  ruin  before 

them. 
Happy  art  thou,  as  if  every  day  thou  hadst  picked  up 

a  horseshoe." 
Pausing  a  moment  to  take  the  pipe  that  Evangeline 

brought  him, 
And  with  a  coal  from  the  embers  had  lighted,  be  slowly 

continued : 


THE   FIITH   READER.  191 

"Four  days  now  are  passed  since  the  English  ships  at 
their  anchors 

Ride   in    the  Gaspereau's   mouth,  with    their    cannon 
})ointed  against  us. 

What  their  design  may  be  is  unknown ;  but  all  are 
commanded 

On  the  morrow  to  meet  in  the  church,  where  his  Majes- 
ty's mandate 

Will  be  proclaimed  as  law  in  the  land.     Alas !  in  t\v 
mean  time 

Many  surmises  of  evil  alarm  the  hearts  of  the  people.'* 

Then  made  answer  the  farmer  :  "  Perhaps  some  friend- 
lier purpose 

Brings  these  ships  to  our  shores.    Perhaps  the  harvests 
in  England 

By  untimely  rains  or  untimelier  heat  have  been  blighted, 

And  from  our  bursting  barns  they  would  feed  their  cat- 
tle and  children." 

"  Not  so  thinketh  the  folk  in  the  village,"  said,  warmly, 
the  blacksmith, 

Shaking  his  head,  as  in  doubt ;  then,  heaving  a  sigh, 
he  continued  : 

"  Louisburg  is  not  forgotten,  nor  Beau  Sejour,  nor  Porf: 
Boyal. 

Many  already  have  fled  to  the  forest,  and  lurk  on  its 

outskirts, 
Waiting  with  anxious  hearts  the  dubious  fate  of  to- 
morrow. 


£92  THE  FIFTU   READER. 

Arms  have  been  taken  from  us,  and  warlike  weapons  oi 

all  kinds ; 
Nothing  is  left  but  the  blacksmith's  sledge  and  the 

scythe  of  the  mower." 
Then  with  a  pleasant  smile  made  answer  the  joTial 

farmer : 
"  Safer  are  we  unarmed,  in  the  midst  of  our  flocks  and 

our  cornfields, 
Safer  within  these  peaceful  dykes,  besieged  by  the 

ocean, 
Than  our  fathers  in  forts,  besieged  by  the  enemy's  can- 
non. 
Fear  no  evil,  my  friend,  and  to-night  may  no  shadow  of 

sorrQW 
Fall  on  this  house  and  hearth ;  for  this  is  the  night  of 

the  contract. 
Built  are  the  house  and  the  bam.    The  merry  lads  of 

the  village 
Strongly  have  built  them  and  well :  and,  breaking  the 

glebe  round  about  them, 
Filled  the  barn  with  hay,  and  the  house  with  food  for  a 

twelvemonth. 
Rene  Leblanc  will  be  here  anon,  with  his  papers  and 

inkhorn. 
Shall  we  not  then  be  glad,  and  rejoice  in  the  joy  of  oui 

children  ?" 


IHE  JTiiTH   liEADMl.  lUiJ 


XXXV.  -  EVANGELINK  — Ooims  jkd. 


1.  Bent  like  a  laboring  oar,  that  toils  in  the  surf  of 
the  ocean, 

Dent,  but  not  broken,  by  age  was  the  form  of  the  notary 
public ; 

Bhocks  of  yellow  hair,  like  the  silken  floss  of  the  maize, 
hung 

Over  his  shoulders ;  his  forehead  was  high ;  and  glasses 
with  horn  bows 

Sat  astride  on  his  nose,  with  a  look  of  wisdom  supemaL 

Father  of  twenty  children  was  he,  and  more  than  a 
hundred 

Children's  children  rode  on  his  knee,  and  heard  his 
great  watch  tick. 

Four  long  years  in  the  tilnes  of  the  war  had  he  lan- 
guished a  captive, 

Suffering  much  in  an  old  French  fort  as  the  friend  of 
the  English.     ^ 

Now,  though  warier  grown,  without  all  guile  or  suspi- 
cion, 

"Ripe  in  wisdom  was  he,  but  patient,  and  simple,  and 
childlike. 


/ 

/ 


194  THE    FIFTH   REAPEIl. 

He  was  beloved  hj  all,  and  most  of  all  bj  tlie  cliildren , 
For  he  told  them  tales  of  the  Loup-garou  in  the  forest, 
And  of  the  goblin  that  came  in  the  night  to  water  the 

horses, 
And  of  the  white  Letiche,  the  ghost  of  a  child  who 

unchristened 
Died,  and  was  doomed  to  haunt  unseen  the  chambers 

of  children ; 
And  how  on  Christmas  eve  the  oxen  talked  in  the 

stable, 
And  how  the  fever  was  cured  by  a  spider  shut  up  in  a 

nutshell. 
And  the  marvellous  powers  of  four-leaved  clover  and 

horseshoes, 
With  whatsoever  else  was  writ  in   the  lore   of    the 

village. 
Then  up  rose  from  his  seat  by  the  fireside  Basil  the 

blacksmith, 
Elnocked  from  his  pipe  the  ashes,  and  slowly  extending 

his  right  hand, 
i'ather  Leblanc,"  he  exclaimed,  "  thou  hast  heard  the 

talk  in  the  village, 
Al  i,  perchance,  canst  tell  us  some  news  of  these  ships 

and  their  errand." 
Then  with  modest  demeanor  made  answer  the  notary 

public — 
"  Gossip  enough  have  I  hi'.ard,  in  sooth,  yet  am  never 

the  wiser; 


THE   Fll' Til   llEADEK.  195 

And  what  their  errand  may  be  I  know  not  better  than 

others. 
Yet  am  I  not  of  those  who  imagine  some  evil  intention 
Brings  them  here,  for  we  are  at  peace  ;  and  why  then 

molest  us?" 
*'  God's  name !"  shouted  the  hasty  and  somewhat  iras- 
cible blacksmith ; 
"  Must  we  in  all  things  look  to  the  how,  and  the  why, 

and  the  wherefore  ? 
Daily  injustice  is  done,  and  might  is  the  right  of  the 

strongest  T' 
But,  without  heeding  his  warmth,  continued  the  notary 

public — 
**  Man  is  unjust,  but  God  is  just ;  but  finally  justice 
Triumphs;  and  well  I  remember  a  story,  that  often 

consoled  me. 
When  as  a  captive  I  lay  in  the  old  French  fort  at  Port 

Koyal."       * 
This  was  the  old  man's  favorite  tale,  and  he  loved  to 

repeat  it 
When  his  neighbors  complained  that  any  injustice  was 

done  them. 
"  Once  in  an  ancient  city,  whose  name   I  no  longer 

remember, 
Kaised  aloft  on  a  column,  a  brazen  statue  of  Justice 
hJtood  in  the  public  square,  upholding  the  scales  in  it? 

left  hand, 


196  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

And  in  its  right  a  sword,  as  an  emblem  that  justice 
presided 

Over  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  the  hearts  and  homes  of 
the  people. 

Even  the  birds  had  built  their  nests  in  the  scales  of  the 
balance. 

Having  no  fear  of  the  sword  that  flashed  in  the  sun- 
shine above  them. 

But  in  the  course  of  tmie  the  laws  of  the  land  were 
corrupted ; 

Might  took  the  place  of  right,  and  the  weak  were 
oppressed,  and  the  mighty 

Buled  with  an  iron  rod.  Then  it  chanced  in  a  noble- 
man's palace 

That  a  necklace  of  pearls  was  lost,  and  ere  long  a 
suspicion 

JFell  on  an  orphan  girl  who  lived  as  maid  in  the  house- 
hold. 

She,  after  form  of  trial  condemned  to  die  on  the  scaffold, 

Patiently  met  her  doom  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  of 
Justice. 

As  to  her  Father  in  heaven  her  innocent  spirit  ascended. 

Lo !  o'er  the  city  a  tempest  rose ;  and  the  bolts  of  the 
thunder 

Smote  the  statue  of  bronze,  and  hurled  in  wrath  from 
its  left  hand 

Down  on  the  pavement  below  the  clattering  scales  of 
the  balance. 


THE   FIFTH    READER  197 

And  in  tlie  hollow  thereof  was  found  the  nest  of  a 

magpie, 
Into  whose  claj-built  walls  the  necklace  of  pearls  was 

inwoven." 
Silenced,  but  not  convinced,  when  the  story  was  ended, 

the  blacksmith 
Stood  like  a  man  who  fain  would  speak,  but  findeth  no 

language ; 
All  his  thoughts  were  congealed  into  lines  on  his  face, 

as  the  vapors 
Freeze  in  fantastic  shapes  on  the  window-panes  in  the 

winter. 
2.  Then  Evangeline  lighted  the  brazen  lamp  on  the 

table. 
Filled,  till  it  overflowed,  the  pewter  tankard  with  home- 
brewed 
Nut-brown  ale,  that  was  famed  for  its  strength  in  the 

village  of  Grand-Pre ; 
While  from  his  pocket  the  notary  drew  his  papers  and 

inkhom. 
Wrote  with  a  steady  hand  the  date  and  the  age  of  the 

parties. 
Naming  the  dower  of  the  bride  in  flocks  of  sheep  and 

in  cattle. 
Orderly  all  things  proceeded,  and  duly  and  well  were 

completed. 
And  the  great  seal  of  the  law  was  set  like  a  sun  on  the 

margin. 


A 


TUE   FIFTH    Ill-AJjEIl. 


Tlien  from  his  leathern  pouch  the  farmer  threw  on  the 

table 
Three  times  the  old  man's  fee  in  solid  pieces  of  silver  \ 
And  the  notary  rising,  and  blessing  the  bride  and  the 

bridegrooin, 
Lifted  aloft  the   tankard  of  ale  and  drank  to  their 

welfare. 
Wiping  the  foam  from  his  lip,  he  solemnly  bowed  and 

departed, 
While  in  silence  the  others  sat  and  mused  by  the 

fireside. 
Till  Evangeline  brought  the  draught-board  out  of  its 

comer. 
Soon  was  the  game  begun.    In  friendly  coiitention  the 

old  men 
Laughed  at  each  lucky  hit,  or  unsuccessful  maneuver, 
Laughed  when  a  man  was  crowned,  or  a  breach  was 

made  in  the  king-row. 

•  »  «  *  • 

•  •  «  ^ 

•  •  «  •  4e 


Silently  one  by  one,    in    the    infinite    meadow's   of 

heaven, 
Blossomed  the  lovely  stars,  the  forget-me-nots  of  the 
angels,     k^^^ 


THE  FIFTH   READEB.  199 

*S.  Thus  was  the  evening  passed.      Anon  the  bell 

from  the  belfry 
Kang  out  the  hour  of  nine,  the  village  curfew,  and 

straightway 
Rose  the  guests  and  departed ;  and  silence  reigned  in 

the  household. 
Many  a  farewell  word  and  sweet  good-night  on  the 

doorstep 
Lingered  long  in  Evangeline's  heart,  and  filled  it  with 

gladness. 
Carefully  then  were  covered  the  embers  that  glowed  on 

the  hearth-stone, 
And  on  the  oaken  stairs  resounded  the  tread  of  the 

farmer. 
Soon  with   a  soundless  step  the  foot  of  Evangeline 

followed. 
Up  the    stair-case  moved   a  luminous   space  in   the 

darkness. 
Lighted  less  by  the  lamp  than  the  shining  face  of  the 

maiden. 
Silent  she  passed  the  hall,  and  entered  the  door  of  hei 

chamber. 
Simple  that  chamber  was,  with  its  curtains  of  white, 

and  its  clothes-press 
Ample  and    high,   on   whose   spacious    shelves   were 

carefully  folded 
Linen  and  woolen  stuffs,  by  the  hand  of  Evangeline 

woven. 


200  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

This  was  the  precious  dower  she  would  bring  to  het 

husband  in  marriage, 
Better  than  flocks  and  herds,  being  proofs  of  her  skill 

as  a  housewife. 
Soon  she  extinguished  her  lamp,  for  the  mellow  and 

radiant  moonlight 
Streamed  through  the  windows,  and  lighted  the  room, 

tni  the  heart  of  the  maiden 
Swelled  and  obeyed  its  power,  like  the  tremulous  tides 

of  the  ocean. 


THE  FIFTH   READEB.  201 


XXXVI.— EVANGELINE.— Continued. 

1.  Pleasantly  rose  next  morn  the  sun  on  tlie  village 

of  Grand-Pre. 
Pleasantly  gleamed  in  the  soft,  sweet  air  the  Basin  of 

Minas, 
Where  the    ships,  with  their  waving   shadows,  were 

riding  at  anchor. 
Life  had  long  been  astir  in  the  village,  and  clamorous 

labor 
Knocked  with  its  hundred  hands  at  the  golden  gates 

of  the  morning. 
Now  from  the  country  around,  from  the  farms  and 

neighboring  hamlets, 
Came  in   their  holiday   dresses   the   bUthe   Acadian 

peasants. 
Many  a  glad  good-morrow  and  jocund  laugh  from  the 

young  folk 
Made  the  bright  air  brighter,  as  up  from  the  numerous 

meadows,  •  • 

Where  no  path  could  be  seen  but  the  track  of  wheels 

in  the  greensward, 
Group  after  group  appeared,  and  joined,  or  passed  on 

the  highway. 
Long  ere  noon,  in  the  village  all  sounds  of  labor  were 

silenced. 


'^in  TflE   FIFTH   READER. 

TliroDged  wore   the   streets  with  people ;    and   noisy 

groujDS  at  the  house-doors 
Sat  in  the  cheerful   sun,  and  rejoiced   and   gossiped 

together. 
Every  house  was  an  inn,  where  all  were  welcomed  and 

feasted ; 
For  with  this  simple  people,  who  lived  like  brothers 

together, 
AJl  things  were  held  in  common,  and  what  one  had  was 

another's. 
Yet  under  Benedict's  roof  hospitality  seemed  more 

abundant : 
For  Evangeline  stood  among  the  guests  of  her  father ; 
Bright  was  her  face  with  smiles,  and  words  of  welcome 

and  gladness 
Fell  from  her  beautiful  lips,  and  blessed  the  cup  as  she 

gave  it. 
2.  Under  the  open  sky,  in  the  odorous  air  of  the 

orchard, 
Stript  of  its  golden  fruit,  was  spread  the  feast  of  be- 
trothal. 
There  in  the  shade  of  the  porch  were  the  priest  and 

the  notary  seated ; 
There    good    Benedict    sat,    and    sturdy    Basil    tiio 

blacksmith. 
Not  far  withdrawn  fi'om  these,  by  the  cider-press  and 

the  beel lives, 


THE    FIFTH    EEADEK.  203 

Michael  the  fiddler  was  placed,  with  the   gayest  of 

.  hearts  and  of  waistcoats. 
Shadow  and  light  fi:om  the  leaves  alternately  played 

on  his  snow-white 
Hair,  as  it  waved  in  the  wind ;  and  the  jolly  face  of  the 

fiddler 
Glowed  like  a  living  coal  when  the  ashes  are  blown 

from  the  embers. 
Gayly  the  old  man  sang  to  the  vibrant  sound  of  the 

fiddle, 
Tous  les  Bourgeois  de  Chn.rtres^  and  Le   Carillon  de 

DunJcerque, 
And  anon  with  his  wooden  shoes  beat  time  to  the 

music. 
Merrily,   merrily   whirled    the   wheels    of    the    diz^y 

dances 
Under  the  orchard-trees  and  down  the  path  to  the 

meadows ; 
Old  folk  and  young  together,  and  children   mingled 

among  them. 
*    Fairest  of  all  the  maids  was  Evangeline,  Benedict's 

daughter ! 
Noblest  of  all  the  youths  was  Gabriel,  son  of  the  black- 
smith ! 
3.  So  passed  the  morning  away.     And  lo !  with  a 

summons  sonorous 
Sounded  the  bell  from  its  tower,  and  over  the  meadow3 

a  drnin-beat. 


204  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Thronged  erelong  was  the  church  with  men.    Without, 

in  the  church-yard, 
Waited  the  women.    They  stood  by  the  graves,  and 

hung  on  the  head-stones 
Garlands  of  autumn-leaves  and  evergreens  fresh  from 

the  forest. 
Then  came  the  guard  from  the  ships,  and  marching 

proudly  among  them 
Entered  the  sacred  portal.     With  loud  and  dissonant 

clangor 
Echoed  the  sound  of  the  brazen  drums  from  ceiling 

and  casement, — 
Echoed  a  moment  only,  and  slowly  the  ponderous 

portal 
Closed,  and  in  silence  the  crowd  awaited  the  will  of  the 

soldiers. 
Then  up  rose  their  commander,  and  spake  from  the 

steps  of  the  altar, 
Holding  aloft  in  his  hands,  with  its  seals,  the  royal 

commission. 
"  You  are  convened  this  day,"  he  said,  "  by  his  Ma- 
jesty's orders. 
Clement  and  kind  has  he  been;  but  how  you  have 

answered  his  kindness, 
Let  your  own  hearts  reply  !    To  my  natural  make  and 

my  temper 
Painful  the  task  is  I  do,  wlpch  to  you  I  know  must  be 

grievous. 


THE   FIFTH   RF.ADLIl.  205 


Yet  must  1  bow  and  obey,  and  deli^  er  the  will  of  our 

monarch  ; 
Namely,  that  all  your  lands,  and  dwellings,  and  cattle 

of  all  kinds 
Forfeited  be  to  the  crown ;  and  that  you  yourselves 

from  this  province 
Bo  transported  to  other  lands.     God  grant  you  may 

dwell  there 
Ever    as    faithful   subjects,   a  happy   and    peaceable 

people  ! 
Prisoners  now  I  declare  you ;  for  such  is  his  Majesty's 

pleasure  !" 
As,  when  the  air  is  serene  in   the   sultry   solstice   of 

summer, 
Suddenly  gathers  a  storm,  and  the  deadly  sling  of  the 

hailstones 
Beats  down  the  farmer's  corn  in  the  field  and  shatters 

his  windows, 
Hiding  the  sun,  and  strewing  the  ground  with  thatch 

from  the  house-roofs. 
Bellowing  fly  the  herds,  and  seek  to  break  tbeii  enclo- 
sures ; 
So  on  the  hearts  of  the  people  descended  the  words  of 

the  speaker. 
Silent  a  moment  they  stood  in  speechless  wonder,  and 

then  rose 
Louder  and  evei  louder  a  wail  of  sorrow  and  ancror, 


20G  THE   FIFTH   KEADEK 

And,  by  one  impulse  moved,  tliej  madly  ruslied  to  the 

doorway. 
Vain  was  tlio  hope  of  escape;   and  cries   and  fierce 

imprecations 
Rang  through  the  house  of  prayer  ;  and  high  o'er  the 

heads  of  the  others 
Elose,  with  his  arms  uplifted,  the  figure  of  Basil  the 

blacksmith, 
A-S,  on  a  stormy  sea,  a  spar  is  tossed  by  the  billows. 
Flushed  was  his  face  and  distorted  with  passion  ;  and 

wildly  he  shouted, — 
**  Down  with  the  tyrants  of  England  !  we  never  have 

sworn  them  allegiance ! 
Death  to  these  foreign  soldiers,  who  seize  on  our  homes 

and  our  harvests !" 
More  he  fain  would  have  said,  but  the  merciless  hand 

of  a  soldier 
Smote  him  upon  the  mouth,  and  dragged  him  down  to 
the  pavement. 
4.  In  the  midst  of  the  strife  and  tumult  of  angry 
contention, 
Lol    the  door  of  the  chancel  opened,    and   Father 

Felician 
Entered,  with  serious  mien,  and  ascended  the  steps  of 

the  altar. 
Raising  his  reverend  hand,  with  a  gesture  he  awed 
into  silence 


THE   FIFTH   KEADER.  207 

A.11  that  clamorous  throng ;  and  thus  he  spake  to  his 

people  ; 
Deep  were  his  tones  and  solemn  ;  in  accents  measured 

and  mournful 
Spake  he,  as,  after  the  tocsin's  alarm,  distinctly  the 

clock  strikes  : 
*  What  is  tli^s  that  ye  do,  my  children  ?  what  madness 

has  seized  you  ? 
Forty  years  of  my  life  have  I  labored  among  you,  and 

taught  you. 
Not  in  word  alone,  but  in  deed,  to  love  one  another  ! 
Is  this  the  fruit  of  my  toils,  of  my  vigils  and  prayers 

and  privations  ? 
Have  you  so  soon  forgotten  all  lessons  of  love  and 

forgiveness  ? 
This  is  the  house  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  would 

you  profane  it 
Thus  with  violent  deeds  and  hearts  overflowing  with 

hatred? 
Lo !  where  the  crucified  Christ  from  his  cross  is  gazing 

upon  you ! 
See  !  in  those  sorrowful  eyes  what  meekness  and  holy 

compassion  ! 
Hark !    how  those  lips  still  repeat  the   prayer,    '  O 

Father,  forgive  them !' 
Let  us  repeat  that  prayer  in  the  hour  when  the  wicked 

assail  us. 


208  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Let  US  repeat  it  now,   and  say,   *  O  Father,  foreave 

them!'" 
Few  were  his  words  of  rebuke,  but  deep  in  ^the  hearts 

of  his  people 
Sank  they,  and  sobs  of  contrition  succeeded  the  pas- 
sionate outbreak. 
While  they  repeated  his  prayer,  and  said«  "  0  Facher, 

forgive  them !" 
Then  came  the  evening  service.     The  tapers  gleamed 

from  the  altar. 
Fervent  and  deep  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  and  the 

people  responded. 
Not  with  their  Hps  alone,  but  their  hearts ;   and  tLo 

Ave  Maria 
Sang  they,  and  fell  on  their  knees,  and  their  souls,  with 

devotion  translated, 
Bose  on  the  ardor  of  prayer,  like  EUjah  ascending;  to 

heaven. 
6.  Meanwhile  had  spread  in  the  village  the  tidiiigs 

of  ill,  and  on  all  sides 
Wandered,  wailing  from  house  to  house,  the  women 

and  children. 
Long  at  her  father's  door  Evangeline  stood  with  her 

right  hand 
Shielding  her  eyes  from  the  level  rays  of  th<  sun,  that 

descending, 
Lighted  the  tillage  street  with  mysterious  splendor 

and  roofod  each 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  209 

feasant's  cottage  with  golden  thatch,  and  emblazoned 

its  windows. 
Long  within  had  been  spread  the  snow-white  cloth  on 

the  table ; 
There  stood  the  wheaten  loaf,  and  the  honey  fragrant 

with  wild-flowers  ; 
There  stood  the  tankard  of  ale,  and  the  cheese  fresh 

brought  from  the  dairy  ; 
And,  at  the  head  of  the  board,  the  great  arm-chair  of 

the  farmer. 
Thus  did  Evangeline  wait  at  her  father's  door,  as  the 

sunset 
Threw  the  long  shadows  of  trees  o'er  the  broad  am- 
brosial meadows. 
Ah !  on  her  spirit  within  a  deeper  shadow  had  fallen, 
And  from  the  fields  of  her  soul  a  fragrance  celestial 

ascended, — 
Charity,  meekness,  love,  and   hope,  and  forgiveness, 

and  patience ! 
Then,  all-forgetful  of    self,  she  wandered    into    the 

village. 
Cheering  with  looks  and  worda  the  mournful  hearts  of 

the  women, 
As  o'er  the  darkening  fields  with  lingering  steps  they 

departed, 
Urged  by  tlieir  household  cares,  and  the  woary  feet  of 

their  children. 


210  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Down  sank  the  great  red  sun,  and  in  golden,  glimmer- 
ing vapors 

Veiled  ilie  light,  of  his  face,  like  the  Prophet  descend- 
ing from  Sinai. 

Sweetly  over  the  village  the  bell    of    the    Angelas 
sounded. 
6.  Meanwhile,  amid  the  gloom,  by  the  church  Evan- 
geline lingered. 

All  was  silent  within  ;  and  in  vain  at  the -door  and  the 
windows 

Stood  she,  and  listened  and  looked,  till,  overcome  by 
emotion, 

«*  Gabriel !"  cried  she  aloud  with  tremulous  voice  ;  but 
no  answer 

Came  from  the  graves  of  the  dead,  nor  the  gloomier 
grave  of  the  living. 

Slowly  at  length  she  returned  to  the  tenantless  house 
of  her  father. 

Smouldered  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  on  the  board  was 
the  supper  untasted. 

Empty  and  drear  was  each  room,  and  haunted  "with 
phantoms  of  terror. 

Sadly  echoed  her  step  on  the  stair  and  the  floor  of  her 
chamber. 

In  the  dead  of  the  night  she  heard  the  disconsolate 
rain  fall 

Loud  on  the  withered  leaves  of  the  sycamore-tree  by 
the  whidow. 


I 


THE   FIFTH   KEADEIi.  211 


Keenly  the  ligLtning  flashed :  and  the  voice  of  the 

echoing  thunder 
Told  her  that  God  was  in  heaven,  and  governed  the 

world  He  created ! 
Then  she  remembered  the  tale  she  had  heard  of  the 

justice  of  Heaven ; 
Soothed  was  her  troubled   soul,  and  she  peacefully 

slumbered  till  morning. 


XXXVn.  —EVANGELINE.  —Continued. 

1.  Four  times  the  sun  had  risen  and  set ;  and  now 

on  the  fifth  day 
Cheerily  called  the  cock  to  the  sleeping  maids  of  the 

farm  house. 
Soon  o'er  the  yellow  fields,  in  silent  and  mournful 

procession, 
Came  from  the  neighboring  hamlets  and  farms  the 

Acadian  women, 
Driving  in  ponderous  wains  their  household  goods  to 

the  sea- shore. 
Pausing  and  looking  back  to  gaze  once  more  on  their 

dwellings. 
Ere  they  were  shut  from  sight  by  the  winding  road 

and  the  woodland. 
Close  at  their  sides  their  children  ran,  and  urged  on 

the  oxen. 


212  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

While  in  their  hands  they  clasped  some  fragments  oi 

playthings. 
2.  Thus  to  the  Gaspereau^s  mouth   they  hurried  ' 

and  there  on  the  sea-beach 
Piled  in  confusion  lay  the  household  goods  of  the 

peasants. 
All  day  long  between  the  shore  and  the  ships  did  the 

boats  ply  ; 
All  day  long  the  wains  came  laboring  down  from  the 

village. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  was  near  to  his 

setting, 
Echoed  far  o'er  the  fields  came  the  roll  of  drums  from 

the  churchyard. 
Thither  the  women  and  children  thronged.      On  a 

siidden  the  church-doors 
Opened,  and  forth  came  the  guard,  and  marching  in 

gloamy  procession 
Followed  me  long-imprisoned,  but  patient,  Acadian 

farma*s. 
Even  as  lilgrims,  who  journey  afar  from  their  homes 

ancitheir  country, 
Sing  as  the/>go,  and  in  singing  forget  they  are  weary 

and  way^vorn, 
So  "with  songs  bn  their  lips  the   Acadian   peasants 

descended 
Down  from  the  church  to  the  shore,  amid  their  wives 

and  their  daughters. 


THE   riFill    liEADKll.  213 

Foremost  the  young  men  came  ;  auJ,  raising  together 

their  voices, 
Sang   with  tremulous   lips   a  chant   of   the   Catholic 

Missions  : — 
"  Sacred    heart  of    the    Saviour !       O    inexhaustible 

fountain ! 
Fill  our  hearts  this  day  with  strength  and  submission 

and  patience  !'* 
Then  the  old  men,  as  they  marched,  and  the  women 

that  stood  by  the  wayside 
Joined   in   the   sacred  psalm,   and  the   birds   in   the 

sunshine  above  them 
Mingled  their  notes  therewith,  like  voices  of  spirits 

departed. 
3.  Half-way  down  to  the  shore  Evangeline  waited 

in  silence, 
Not  overcome  with  grief,  but  strong  in  the  hour  of 

affliction, — 
Calmly   and   sadly  she  waited,   until  the  procession 

approached  her, . 
And  she  beheld  the  face  of  Gabriel  pale  with  emotion. 
Tears  then  filled  her  eyes,  and  eagerly  running   to 

meet  him. 
Clasped  she  his  hands,   and  laid  her  head  on    his 

shoulder,  and  whispered, —     } 
**  Gabriel !    be  of    good  cheer !    foii  if    we    love  one 

another, 


L 


214  TFTE    FTFTIT    RKADER.    • 

Nothing,  in  truth,  can  lianii    us,  whatever  mischances 

may  happen  !" 
Smiling  she  spake  these  words  ;  then  suddenly  paused, 

for  her  father 
Saw  she  slowly  advancing.     Alas !  how  changed  was 

his  aspect ! 
Gone  was  the   glow  from  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  from 

his  eye,  and  his  footstep 
Heavier  seemed  with  the  weight  of  the  heavy  heart  in 

his  bosom. 
But  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh,  she  clasped  hig  neck  and 

embraced  him, 
Speaking  words  of  endearment  where  words  of  com- 
fort availed  not. 
Thus    to    the    Gaspereau's    mouth    moved    on    that 
mournful  procession. 
4.  There  disorder  prevailed,  and  the  tumult  and  stir 

embarking. 
Busily  plied  the  freighted  boats  ;  and  in  the  confusion 
Wives  were  torn  from  their  husbands,  and  mothers, 

too  late,  saw  their  children 
Left  on  the  land,  extending  their  arms,  v^iCh  wildest 

entreaties. 
So  unto  separate  ships  were  Basil  and  Ga-briel  carried, 
While  in  despair  on  the  shore  Evan^'eline  stood  with 

her  father. 
Half  the  task  was  not  done  when  T?,e  sun  went   down 
and  the  twilight 


^B  THE   FIFTH   READFJl,  215 

Deepened  and  darkened  around;    and   in  haste   tLe 

refluent  ocean 
FJed  away  from  the  shore,  and  left  the  line  of  the  sand 

beach 
Covered  with  waifs  of  the  tide,  with  kelp  and  slippery 

sea-weed. 
Farther  back  in  the  midst  of  the  household  goods  and 

the  wagons. 
Like  to  a  gypsy  camp,  or  a'leaguer  after  a  battle, 
All  escape  cut  off  by  the  sea,  and  the  sentinels  near 

them, 
Lay  encamped  for  the  night  the  houseless  Acadian 

farmers. 
Back  to  its  nethermost  caves  retreated  the  bellowing 

ocean. 
Dragging  adown  the  beach  the  rattling  pebbles,  and 

leaving 
Inland  and  far  up  the  shore  the  stranded  boats  of  thf, 

sailors. 
Then,  as  the  night  descended,  the  herds  returned  fro«j 

their  pastures ; 
Sweet  was  the  moist  still  air  with  the  odoi  of  milk 

from  their  udders  ; 
Lowing  they  waited,  and,  at  the  well-known   bars   of 

the  farm-yard, — 
^  aited  and  looked  in  Vain  for  the  voice  and  the  hand 

of  the  milkmaid, 


2l  J  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

Siience  reigned  in  the   streets;  from   the   church   no 

Angelas  sounded, 
Robe  no  smoke  from  the  roofs,  and  gleamed  no  lights 

from  the  windows. 
6.  But  on  the  shores  meanwhile  the  evening  fires 

had  been  kindled. 
Built  of  the  drift-wood  thrown  on  the  sands  from 

wrecks  in  the  tempest. 
Eouni  them  shapes  of    gloom  and  sorrowful  facea 

were  gathered, 
Voicewi  of  women  were  heard,  and  of  men,  and  the 

crying  of  children. 
Onwar'd  from  fire  to  fire,  as  from  hearth  to  hearth,  in 

his  parish, 
Wandered  the  faithful  priest,  consoUng  and  blessing 

and  cheering, 
Lika  unto  shipwrecked  Paul  on  Mehta's  desolate  sea- 
shore. 
Thufe  he  approached  the  place  where  Evangeline  sat 

with  her  father. 
And  la  the  flickering  light  beheld  the  face  of  the  old 

man, 
Haggard  and  hollow  and  wan,  and  without  either 

thought  or  emotion, 
E'en  as  the  face  of  a  clock  from  which  the  hands  have 

been  taken. 
Vainly  Evangeline  strove  with  words  and  caresses  to 

cheer  him. 


I 


THE   FIFTH   READER  217 


Vainly  offered  liim  food ;  yet  be  moved  not,  he  looked 

not,  he  spake  not, 
But,  with  a  vacant  stare,  ever  gazed  at  the  flickering 

fire-light. 
"  BeTiedicite  /"  murmured  the  priest,  in  tones  of  com- 
passion. 
More  he  fain  would  have  said,  but  his  heart  was  full, 

and  his  accents 
Faltered  and  paused  on  his  Ups,  as  the  feet  of  a  child 

on  a  threshold, 
Hushed  by  the  scene  he    beholds,  and  ^the    awful 

presence  of  sorrow. 
Silently,  therefore,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the 

maiden, 
Kaising  his  tearful  eyes  to  the  silent  stars  that  above 

them 
Moved  on  their  way,  unperturbed  by  the  wrongs  and 

sorrows  of  mortals. 
Then  sat  he  dowH  at  her  side,  and  they  wept  together 

in  silence, 
6.  Suddenly   /jse  from   the  south    a    light,  as    in 

auturart  the  blood-red 
Moon  clim'jc  the  crystal  walls  of  h6aven,  and  o'er  the 

Lonzon 
TitftD  -iike  stretches  its  hundred  hands  upon  mountain 

and  meadow, 
Seizmg  the  rocks   and  the  rivers,   and  piling    huge 

shadows  together. 


21S  TSE   FIFTH    READER. 

Broader  and  ever  broader  it  gleamed  on  tlie  roofs  of 

the  village, 
Gleamed  on  the  skj  and  the  sea,  and  the  ships  that- 
lay  in  the  roadstead. 
Oolumns  of  shining  smoke  uprose,  and  flashes  of  flame 

were 
.thrust  through  their  folds  and  withdrawn,   like   the 

quivering  hands  of  a  martyr. 
Then  as  the  wind  seized  the  gleeds  and  the  burning 

thatch,  and,  uplifting, 
Whirled  them  aloft  through  the   air,  at  once  from  a 

hundred  house-tops 
Started    the   sheeted   smoke   with  flashes    of    flames 

intermingled. 
7.  These  things  beheld  in  dismay  the  crowd  on  the 

shore  and  on  shipboard. 
Speechless  at  "first  they  stood,  then  cried  aloud  in  their 

anguish, 
**  "We  shall  behold  no  more  our  homes  in  the  village  of 

Grand-Pr^ !" 
Loud  on  a  sudden  the  cocks  began  to  crow  in  the 

Jarm-yards, 
Thinking  the  day  had  dawned :  and  anon  the  lowing 

of  cattle 
Came  on  the  evening  breeze,  by  the  barking  of  dogs 

interrupted. 
Then   rose  a  sound  of  dread,   such   as  startles  the 

sleeping  encampments 


THE  FIFIH   HEADER.  219 

Far  in   the  western  prairies  or  forests  that  skirt  the 

Nebraska, 
When  the  wild  horses  affrighted  sweep  by  with  the 

speed  of  the  whirlwind, 
Or  the  loud  bellowing  herds  of  buffaloes  rush  to  the 

river. 
Such  was  the  sound  that  arose  on  the  night,  as  the 

herds  and  the  horses 
Broke  through   their  folds   and   fences,    and    madly 

rushed  o'er  the  meadows. 
8.  Overwhelmed  with  the  sight,  yet  speechless,  the 

priest  and  the  maiden 
Gazed  on  the  scene    of    terror    that   reddened   and 

widened  before  them ; 
And  as  they  turned  at  length  to  speak  to  their  silent 

companion, 
Lo !  from  his  seat  he  had  fallen,  and  stretched  abroad 

on  the  sea-shore 
Motionless  lay  his  form,  from  which  the  soul  had  de^ 

parted. 
Slowly  the  priest  uplifted  the  lifeless  head,  and  the 

maiden  ^ 

Knelt  at  her  father's  side,  and  wailed  aloud  in  hei 

terror. 
Then  in  a  swoon  she  sank,  and  lay  with  her  head  on 

his  bosom. 
TJhrough  the  long  night  she  lay  in  deep,  oblivious 
slumbeif 


220  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

And  when  sne  woke  from  the  trance,  she  beheld  a 

multitude  near  her. 
Faces  of  friends  she  beheld,  that  were  monmfully 

gazing  upon  her, 
Pallid  with  tearful  eyes,  and  looks  of  saddest  com- 
passion. 
Still  the  blaze  of  the  burning  village  illumined  the 

landscape, 
Eeddened  the  sky  overhead,  and  gleamed  on  the  faces 

around  her, 
And  like  the  day  of  doom  it  seemed  to  her  wavering 

senses. 
Then  a  familiar  voice  she  heard,  as  it   said  to  the 

people, — 
"  Let  us  bury  him  here  by  the  sea.    "When  a  happier 

season 
Brings  us  again  to  our  homes  from  the  unknown  land 

of  our  exile, 
Then  shall  his  sacred  dust  be  piously  laid  in  the 

churchyard." 
Such  were  the  words  of  the  priest.    And  there  in  haste 

by  the  seaside, 
Having  the  glare  of  the  burning  village  for  funeral 

torches. 
But  without  l?ell  or  book,  they  buried  the  farmer  of 

Grand-Pre. 
Ind  as  the  voice  of  the  priest  repeated  the  service  of 
sorrow, 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  221 

Lo  I  with  a  mournful  sound,  like  the  voice  of  a  vast 

congregation, 
Solemnly  answered  the  sea,  and  mingled  its  roar  with 

the  dirges. 
'Twas  the  returning  tide,  that  afar  from  ths  waste  of 

the  ocean. 
With  the  first  dawn  of  day,  came  heaving  and  hurrying* 

landward. 
Then  recommenced  once  more  the  stir  and  noise  of 

embarking ; 
And  with  the  ebb  of  the  tide  the  ships  sailed  ont  of 

the  harbor, 
Leaving  behind  them  the  dead  on  the  snore,  and  the 

village  in  ruins. 


XXXVin.  -EVANGELINE.  —Continued. 

1.  Many  a  weary  year  had  passed  since  the  burning 
of  Grand-Pre, 

When  on  the  falling  tide  the  freighted  vessels  de- 
parted, 

Bearing  a  nation,  with  all  its  household  gods  into 
exile. 

Exile  without  an  end,  and  mthout  an  example  in 
story, 

Far  asunder,  on  separate  coasts,  the  Acadians  landed ; 

Scattered  were  they,  like  flakes  of  snow,  when  the 
wind  from  the  northeast 


222  THE  FTFTH  READEB. 

Strikes  aslant  through  the  fogs  that  darken  the  Banks 

of  Newfoundland* 
Friendless,   homeless,  hopeless,   they  wandered  from 

city  to  city. 
From  the  cold  lakes  of  the  North  to  sultry  Southern 

savannas^ — 
From  the  bleak  shores  of  the  sea  to  the  lands  where 

the  Father  of  Waters 
Seizes  the  hills  in  his  hands,  and  drags  them  down  to 

the  ocean, 
Deep  in  their  sands  to  bury  the  scattered  bones  of  the 

mammoth. 
Friends  they  sought  and  homes ;  and  many,  despair- 
ing, heart-broken. 
Asked  of  the  earth  but  a  grave,  and  no  longer  a  friend 

nor  a  fireside. 
Written  their  history  stands  on  tablets  oi  stone  in  the 

churchyards. 
Long  among  them  was  seen  a  maiden  who  waited  and 

wandered. 
Lowly  and  meek  in  spirit,  and  patiently  suffering  all 

things. 
Fair  was  she  and  young ;   but,  alas  I  before  her   ex- 
tended, 
Dreary  and  vast  and  silent,  the  desert  of  life,  with  its 

pathway 
Marked  by  the  graves  of  those  who  had  sorrowed  and 

suffered  before  her 


I 

I 


THE  FIFTH  READEB. 


Pdfeisionb  long  extinguislied,  and  hopes  long  dead  and 

abandoned, 
As  the   emigrant'^  way  o'er   the   Western   desert   is 

marked  by- 
Camp-fires  long  consumed,  and  bones  that  bleach  in 

tEe  sunshine. 
Something  there  wai3  in  her  life  incomplete,  imperfect, 

unfinished  ; 
A.S  if  a  morning  of  June,  with  all  its  music  and  sun- 
shine, 
Suddenly  paused  in  the  sky,  and  fading,  slowly  des- 
cended 
Into  the  east  again,  from  whence  it  late  had  arisen. 
Sometimes  she  lingered  in   towns,  till,  urged  by  tho 

fever  within  her. 
Urged  by  a  restless  longing,  the  hunger  and  thirst  of 

the  spirit, 
She  would  commence  again  her  endless  search  and 

endeavor ; 
Sometimes  in  churchyards  strayed,  and  gazed  on  the 

crosses  and  tombstones, 
Sat  by  some  nameless  grave,  and  thought  that  perhaps 

in  its  bosom 
He  was  already  at  rest,  and  she  longed  to  slumbet 

beside  him. 
Sometimes  a  rumor,  a  hearsay,  an  inarticulate  whisper. 
Came  with  its  airy  hand  to  point  and  beckon  her  for  • 

ward. 


2^  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

Sometimes  she  spake  with  those  who  had  seen  her 

beloved  and  known  him, 
But  it  was  long  ago,  in  some  far-o£f  place  or  forgotten. 
"  Gabriel  Lajeunesse  !"  they  said  ;  "  O  yes  !  we  have 

seen  him. 
He  was  with  Basil  the  blacksmith,  and  both  have  gone 

to  the  prairies ; 
Coureurs-des-Bois^  are  they,  and  famous  hunters  and 

trappers." 
"  Gabriel  Lajeunesse  I"  said  others  ;  "  O  yes  !  we  have 

seen  him. 
He  is  a  Yoyageur^  in  the  lowlands  of  Louisiana."  [ 
Then  would  they  say,  "  Dear  child !  why  dream  and 

wait  for  him  longer  ? 
Are  there  not  other  youths  as  fair  as  Gabriel  ?  others 
Who  have  hearts  as  tender  and  true,  and  spirits  as 

loyal  ? 
Here  is  Baptiste  Leblanc,  the  notary's  son,  who  has 

loved  thee 
Many  a  tedious  year ;  come,  give  him  thy  hand  and  bb 

happy ! 
Thou  art  too  fair  to  be  left  to  braid  St.  Catherine's 

tresses." 
Then  would  Evangeline  answer,  serenely  but  sadly, 

"I  cannot! 
Whither  my  heart  has  gone,  there  follows  my  hand 

and  not  elsewhere. 


I 


tttt:  ftfth  nFAD'T-T?.  *22i 


For   when   the  hoait   goes  before,   like   n   lamp,  and 
^P  illumines  the  pathway, 

Many  things  are  made  clear,  that  else  lie  hidden  in 
^^  darkness." 

^P  Thereupon  the  priest,  her  friend  and  father-confessor. 
Said    with    a    smile,    "  O    daughter !    thy  God  thus 

speaketh  within  thee ! 
Talk    not    of   wasted    affection,   affection  never  was 

wasted ; 
If  it  enrich  not  the  heart  of  another,  its  waters,  re- 
turning 
Back  to  their  springs,  like  the  rain,  shall  fill  them  full 

of  refreshment ; 
That  which  the  fountain  sends  forth  returns  again  to 

the  fountain. 
Patience  ;  accomplish  thy  labor  ;  accomplish  thy  work 

of  affection ! 
Sorrow  and  silence  are  strong,  and  patient  endurance 

is  godlike. 
Therefore  accomplish  thy  labor  of  love,  till  the  heart  is 

made  godlike, 
Purified,  strengthened,  perfected,  and  rendered  more 

worthy  of  heaven  l" 
Cheered  by  the  good  man's  words,  EvangeHne  labored 

and  waited. 
Still  in  her  heart  she  heard  the  funeral  dirge  of  the 

ocean, 


226  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

But  w'itli  its  sound  there  was  miDglecl  a  voice  that 

whispered,  "  Despair  not  I" 
Thus  did  that  poor  soul  wander  in  want  and  cheerless 

discomfort, 
Bleeding,  barefooted,  over  the  shards  and  tliorns  of 

existence. 
Let  me  essay,  O  Muse !  to  follow  the  wanderer's  foot- 
steps ; — 
Not  through  each  devious  path,  each  changeful  year  of 

existence ; 
But  as  a  traveler  follows  a  streamlet's  course  through 

the  valley : 
Far  from  its  margin  at  times,  and  seeing  the  gleam  of 

its  water 
Here  and  there,  in  some  open  space,  and  at  intervals 

only; 
Then  drawing  nearer  its  banks,  through  sylvan  glooms 

that  conceal  it. 
Though  he  behold  it  not,  he  can  hear  its  continuous 

murmur ; 
Happy,  at  length,  if  he  find  the  spot  where  it  reaches. 

an  outlet. 


«  Sa-van'-na,    an   extensive    open 
plain ;  a  meadow. 
CouEEUK-DEs-Bois,   ramblers    of 
the  woods. 


3  VoYAGEUB,  a  traveler ;  the  name 
given  to  a  class  of  men  employ, 
ed  in  transporting  goods  by  the 
rivers  and  across  the  land. 


.    THE  FIFTH  READER.  227 

XXXIX.  -EVANGELINE.  -Ccntinxjed. 


^^■^l.  It  was  the  month  of  May.     Far  down  the  BeAuti- 
^P  ful  Eiver, 

P»  si  the  Ohio  shore  and  past  the  mouth  of  the  Wabash, 
In  o   the    golden    stream    of    the    broad    and    swift 

Mississippi, 
Floated  a  cumbrous  boat,  that  was  rowed  by  Acadian 

boatmen. 
It  was  a  band  of  exiles :  a  raft,  as  it  were,  from  the 

shipwrecked 
Nation,  scattered  along  the  coast,  now  floating  together 
Bound  by  the  bonds  of  a  common  belief  and  a  common 

misfortune ; 
Men  and  women  and  children,  who,  guided  by  hope  or 

hearsay, 
Sought  for  their  kith  and  their  kin  among  the  few-acred 

farmers 
On  the  Acadian  coast,  and  the  prairies  of  fair  Opelousas. 

With  them  Evangeline  went,  and  her  guide,  the  Father 
Felician. 

Onward  o'er  sunken  sands,  through  a  wilderness  som- 
bre with  forests. 

Day  after  day  they  glided  adown  the  turbulent  river ; 

Night  after  night,  by  the  blazing  fires,  encamped  on  its 
borders. 

Now  tlirough  rushing  chutes,  among  green  island^^, 
wliere  plumelike 


228  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Cotton-trees  nodded  tlieir  sliadowy  crests,  tliey  swept 
with  the  current, 

Then  emerged  into  broad  lagoons,  where  silvery  sand- 
bars 

-»-0'  m  the  stream,  and  along  the  wimpling  waves  of 
their  margin. 

Shining  with  snow-white  plumes,  large  flocks  of  pelicans 
waded. 

Level  the  landscape  grew,  and  along  the  shores  of  the 
river, 

Shaded    by  china-trees,    in    the    midst   of   luxuriant 
gardens. 

Stood  the  houses  of  planters,  with  negro  cabins  and 
dove-cots. 

They  were  approaching  the  region  where  reigns  per- 
petual summer. 

Where  through  the  Golden  Coast,  and  groves  of  orange 
and  citron, 

Sweeps  with  majestic  curve  the  river  away  to  the  east- 
ward. 

They,  too,  swerved  from  their  course ;  and,  entering  the 
Bayou  of  Plaquemine, 

Soon  were  lost  in  a  maze  of  sluggish  and   devious 
waters. 

Which,  hke  a  network  of  steel,  extended  -in  every  direc- 
tion. 

Over  their  heads  the  towering  and  tenebrous^ bough 8  of 
the  cypress 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  229 

Met  in  a  dusky  arch,  and  trailing  mosses  in  mid-air 
Waved  like  banners  that  hang  on  the  walls  of  ancient 

cathedrals. 
Deathlike  the  silence  seemed,  and  unbroken,  save  by 

the  herons 
Home  to  their  roosts  in  the  cedar-trees  returning  at 

sunset, 
Or  by  the  owl,  as  he  greeted  the  moon  with  demoniac 

laughter. 
Lovely  the  moonlight  was  as  it  glanced  and  gleamed 

on  the  water. 
Gleamed  on  the  columns  of  cypress  and  cedar  sustaining 

the  arches, 
Down  through  whose  broken  vaults  it  fell  as  through 

chinks  in  a  ruin. 
Dreamlike,  and  indistinct,  and  strange  were  all  things 

around  them ; 
And  o'er  their  spirits  there  came  a  feeling  of  wonder 

and  sadness — 
Strange  forebodings  of  ill,  unseen  and  that  cannot  be 

compassed. 
As,  at  the  tramp  of  a  horse's  hoof  on  the  turf  of  the 

prairies, 
Far  in  advance  are  closed  the  leaves  of  the  shrinking 

mimosa,'^ 
Sg,  at  the  hoof- beats  of  fate,  with  sad  forebodings  of 

evil, 


230  THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 

Bhrinks  and  closes  the  heart,  ere  the  stroke  of  doom 

has  attained  it. 
But  Evangehne's  heart  was  sustained  by  a  vision,  that 

faintly 
Floated  before  her  eyes,  and  beckoned  her  on  througli 

the  moonhght. 
It  was  the  thought  of  her  brain  that  assumed  the  shape 

of  a  phantom. 
Through  those  shadowy  aisles  had  Gabriel  wandered 

before  her, 
And  every  stroke  of  the  oar  now  brought  him  nearer 

and  nearer. 
2.  Then  in  his  place,  at  the  prow  of  the  boat,  rose 

one  of  the  oarsmen, 
And,  as  a  signal  sound,  if  others  hke  them  peradventure 
Sailed  on  those  gloomy  and  midnight  streams,  blew  a 

blast  on  his  bugle. 
Wild  through  the  dark  colonnades  and  corridors  leafy 

the  blast  rang, 
Breaking  the  seal  of  silence,  and  giving  tongues  to  tho 

forest. 
Soundless  above  thym  the  banners  of  moss  just  stirred 

to  the  music. 
Multitudinous  echoes  awoke  and  died  in  the  distance, 
Over  the  watery  floor,  and   beneath  the  reverberant 

branches : 
But  not  a  voice  replied ;  no   answer  came  from  the 

darkness ; 


THE  FIFTH   BEADEIi.  '  231 

And,  when  the  echoes  had  ceased,  like  a  sense  of  pam 
was  the  silence. 

Then    Evangehne    slept;    but    the*    boatmen    rowed 
through  the  midnight, 

Silent  at  times,  then  singing  familiar  Canadian  boat- 
songs. 

Such  as  they  sang  of  old  on  their  own  Acadian  rivers, 

While   through   the   night  were  heard  the  mysterious 
sounds  of  the  desert, 

Far  off, — indistinct, — as  of  wave  or  wind  in  the  forest, 

Mixed  with  the  whoop  of  the  crane  and  the  roar  of  the 
grim  alligator. 
3.  Thus  ere  another  noon  they  emerged  from  the 
shades  ;  and  before  them 

Lay,  in  the  golden  sun,  the  lakes  of  the  Atchaf alay a. 

Water-lilies  in  myriads  rocked  on  the  slight  undula- 
tions 

Made  by  the  passing  oars,  and,  resplendent  in  beauty, 
the  lotus 

Lifted    her  golden   crown   above    the    heads   of    the 
boatmen. 

Faint  was  the  air  with  the  odorous  breath  of  magnolia 
blossoms. 

And  with  the  heat  of  noon;   and  numberless  sylvau 
islands, 

Fragrant    and    thickly    embowered   with    blossoming 
hedges  of  roses. 


232  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

Near  to  whose  shores  thej  glided   along,   invited    ttt 

slumber. 
Soon   by  the  fairest  of  these  their  weary  oars  were 

suspended. 
Under  the  boughs  of  Wachita  willows,  that  grew  by 

the  margin, 
Safely  their  boat  was  moored  ;  and  scattered  about  on 

the  greensward, 
Tired  with  their  midnight  toil,   the  weary  travelers 

slumbered. 
Over  them  vast  and  high  extended  the  cope  of  a  cedar. 
Swinging  from  its  great  arms,  the  trumpet-flower  and 

the  grape-vine 
Hung  their  ladder  of  ropes  aloft  like  the  ladder  of 

Jacob, 
On   whose    pendulous    stairs    the   angels    ascending, 

descending, 
Were  the  swift  humming-birds,  that  flitted  from  blossom 

to  blossom. 
Such  was  the  vision  EvangeHne  saw  as  she  slumbered 

beneath  it. 
Filled  was  her  heart  with  love,  and  the  dawn  of  an 

opening  heaven 
Lighted  her  soul  in  sleep  with  the  glory  of  regions 

celestial. 
4.  Nearer  and  ever  nearer,  among  the  numberless 

islands, 


t< 


=>j' 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  233 

Darted  a  light,  swift  boat,  that  sped  away  o'er  the 

water, 
Urged  on  its  course  by  the  sinewy  arms  of  hunters  and 

trappers. 
Northward  its  prow  was  turned,  to  the  land  of  the  bison 

and  beaver, 
At  the  helm  sat  a  youth,  with  countenance  thoughtful 

and  careworn. 
Dark  and  neglected  looks  overshadowed  his  brow,  and 

a  sadness 
Somewhat  beyond  his  years  on  his  face  was  legibly 

written. 
Gabriel  was  it,  who,  weary  with  w'aiting,  unhappy  and 

restless. 
Sought  in  the  Western  wilds  obHvion  of  self  and  of 

sorrow. 
Swiftly  they  glided  along,  close  under  the  lee  of  the 

island. 
But  by  the  opposite  bank,  and  behind  a  screen  of 

palmettos. 
So  that  they  saw  not  the  boat,  where  it  lay  concealed 

in  the  willows. 
All  undisturbed  by  the  dash  of  their  oars,  and  unseen, 

were  the  sleepers, 
Angel  of  God  was  there  none  to  awaken  the  slumbering 

maiden. 
Swiftly  tlie}^  glided  away,  like  the  shade  of  a  cloud  on 

the  prairie. 


231  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

After  the  sound  of  their  oars  on  the  tholes^  had  died  in 

the  distance, 
As  from  a  magic  trance  the  sleepers  awoke,  and  the 

maiden 
Said  with  a  sigh  to  the  friendly  priest,  "O  Father 

Felician ! 
Something  says  in  my  heart  that  near  me  Gabriel 

wanders. 
5.  Is  it  a  fooUsh  dream,  an  idle  and  vague  super- 
stition? 
Or  has  an  angel  passed,  and  revealed  the  truth  to  my 

spirit  ?" 
Then^  with  a  blush,'  she  added,  "Alas  for  my  credulous 

fancy ! 
Unto  ears  like  thine  such  words  as  these  have  no 

meaning." 
But  made  answer  the  reverend  man,  and  he  sanlied  as 

he  answered, — 
"  Daughter,  thy  words  are  not  idle  ;  nor  are  they  to 

me  without  meaning. 
Feeling  is  deep  and  stiU  ;  and  the  word  that  floats  on 

the  surface 
Is  as  the  tossing  buoy,  that  betrays  where  the  anchor 

is  hidden. 
Therefore  trust  to  thy  heart,  and  to  what   the  world 

calls  illusions ; 
Gabriel  truly  is  near  thee ;  for  not  far  away  io  chd 

southward. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  235 

On  the  banks  of  the  Teche,  are  the  towns  of  St.  Maur 

and  St.  Martin. 
There   the  long-wandering  bride  shall  be  given  again 

to  her  bridegroom, 
There  the  long-absent  pastor  regain  his  flock  and  his 

sheepfold. 
Beautiful  is  the  land,  with  prairies  and  forests  of  fruit- 
trees  ; 
Under  the  feet  a  garden  of  flowers,  and  the  bluest  of 

heavens 
Bending  above,  and  resting  its  dome  on  the  walls  of 

the  forest. 
They  who   dwell  there  have  named  it   the  Eden  of 

Louisiana." 
6.  With  these  words  of  cheer  they  arose  and  con- 
tinued their  journey. 
Softly  the  evening  came.     The  sun  from  the  western 

horizon 
Like  a  magician  extended  his  golden  wand  o'er  the 

landscape ; 
Twinkling  vapors  arose ;  and  sky  and  water  and  forest 
Seemed   all  on  fire   at  the  touch,   and  melted    and 

mingled  together, 
Hanging  between  two  skies,  a  cloud  with  edges  of 

silver. 
Floated  the  boat,   with    its  dripping    oars,   on    the 

motionless  water. 


23b  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Filled  was  Eyangeline's  heart  with  inexpressible  sweet- 
ness. 
Touched  by  the  magic  spell,  the  sacred  fountains  of 

feeling 
Glowed  with  the  Ught  of  love,  as  the  skies  and  waters 

around  her. 
Then  from  a  neighboring  thicket  the  mocking-bird, 

wildest  of  singers, 
Swinging  aloft  on  a  willow  spray  that  hung  o'er  the 

water. 
Shook  from  his  little  throat  such  floods  of  delirious 

music, 
That  the  whole  air  and  the  woods  and  the  waves 

seemed  silent  to  listen. 
Plaintive  at  first  were  the  tones  and  sad ;  then  soaring 

to  madness 
Seemed  they  to  follow  or  guide  the  revel  of  frenzied 

Bacchantes. 
Single   notes  were    then    heard,    in    sorrowful,    low 

lamentation  ; 
Till,  having  gathered  them  all,  he  flung  them  abroad 

in  derision, 
ks  when,  after  a  storm,  a  gust  of  wind  through  the 

tree-tops 
Shakes  down  the  rattling  rain  in  a  crystal  shower  on 

the  branches.  . 
With  such  a  prelude  as  this,  and  hearts  that  throbbed 

with  emotion, 


THE  riFTH    in.ADElL  237 

Slowlj  tLey  entered  the  Tccbe,  uliere  it  flows  through 
the  green  Opelousas, 

And,  through  the  amber  air,  above  the  crest  of  the 
woodland. 

Saw  the  column  of  smoke  that  arose  from  a  neighbor- 
ing dwelling ; — 

Sounds  of  a  horn  they  heard,  and  the  distant  lowing 
of  cattle. 


>  Ten'-e-beous,  dark,  gloomy. 

«  Mi-Mo'-sA,  the  sensitive  plant  so 
called  from  its  imitating  the  sen- 
sibility of  animal  life. 


3  Thole,  a  pin  inserted  into  the 
gunwale  of  a  boat  to  keep  the 
oar  in  the  row-lock  when  used 
in  rowing. 


XL.  —EVANGELINE.  —Continued. 

1.  Near  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  o'ershadowed  by 

oaks,  from  whose  branches 
Garlands  of  Spanish  moss  and   of  mystic  mistletoe 

flaunted. 
Such  as  the  Druids  cut  down  with  golden  hatchets  at 

Yule-tide, 
Stood,  secluded  and  still,  the  house  of  the  herdsman, 

— a  garden 
Girded    it    round    about  with    a    belt    of    luxuriant 

blossoms. 
Filling  the  air  with  fragrance.     The  house  itself  was 

of  timbers 
Hewn  from    the    cypress-tree,    and    carefully    fitted 

together. 


238  THE   FIFTH   READEU. 

Large  and  low  was  the  roof ;  and  on  slender  columns 

supported, 
Eose-wreathed,  vine-encircled,  a  broad  and  spacious 

veranda. 
Haunt  of  the  humming-bird   and  the  bee,  extended 

around  it. 
At  each  end  of  the  house,  amid  the  flowers  of  the 

garden, 
Stationed    the  dove-cots  were,    as    love's    perpetual 

symbol. 
Scenes  of  endless  wooing,  and  endless  contentions  of 

rivals. 
Silence  reigned  o*er  the  place.    The  linepf  shadow 

and  sunshine 
Ban  near  the  tops  of  the  trees ;  but  the  house  itself 

was  in  shadow, 
And   from    its    chimney-top,    ascending    and    slowly 

*   expanding 
Into  the  evening  air,  a  thin  blue  column  of  smoke 

rose. 
In  the  rear  of  the  house,  from  the  garden  gate,  ran  a 

pathway 
Through  the  great  groves  of  oak  to  the  skirts  of  the 

limitless  prairie, 
Into  whose  sea  of  flowers  the  sun  was  slowly  de- 
scending. 
Full  in  his  track  of  light,  like   ships  with  shadowy 

canvas 


I 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  281- 


flanging  loose  from  their  spars  in  a  motionless  calm 

in  the  tropics, 
Stood   a  cluster   of  trees,   with    tangled    cordage  c»f 

grape-vines. 
2.  Just  where  the  woodlands  met  the  flowery  sirf  of 

the  prairie. 
Mounted  upon  his   horse,   with  Spanish  saddle  and 

stirrups. 
Sat  a  herdsman,  aiTayed  in  gaiters  and    doublet    of 

deerskin. 
Broad  and  brown  was  the  face  that  from  under  the 

Spanish  sombrero^ 
Gazed  on  the  peaceful  scene,  with  the  lordly  look  of  its 

master. 
Round  about  him  were  numberless  herds  of  kine,  that 

were  grazing 
Quietly  in  the  meadows,   and  breathing  the  Tapory 

freshness 
That  uprose  from  the  river,  and  spread  itself  over  tho 

landscape. 
Slowly  lifting  the  horn  that  hung  at  his  side,  and 

expanding 
Fully  his  broad,   deep  chest,  he  blew  a  blast,  that 

resounded 
Wildly  and  sweet  and  far,  through  the  still  damp  air 

of  the  evening.  < 

Suddenly  out  of  the  grass  the  long  white  horns  ot'  the 

cattle 


240  THE  FiFrn  re^vdek. 

Hose  like   flakes   of  foam   on  the  adverse  currents  ol 

ocean.    . 
Silent  a  moment  they  gazed,  then  bellowing  rushed 

o'er  the  prairie, 
And  the  whole  mass  became  a  cloud,  a  shade  in  the 

distance. 
Then,  as  the  herdsman  turned  to  the  house,  through 

the  gate  of  the  garden 
Saw  he  the  forms  of  the  priest  and  the  maiden  advanc- 
ing to  meet  him: 
Suddenly  down  frown  his  horse  he  sprang  in  amaze- 
ment, and  forward 
Kushed  with    extended  arms    and    exclamations    of 

wonder ; 
When  they  beheld  his  face,  they  recognized  Basil  the 

blacksmith. 
Hearty  his  welcome  was,  as  he  led  his  guests  to  the 

garden. 
There  in  an  arbor  of  roses  with  endless  question  and 

answer 
Gave  they  vent  to  their  hearts,  and  renewed  their 

friendly  embraces, 
Laughing  and  weeping  by  turns,  or  sitting  silent  and 

thoughtful. 
Thoughtful,  for  Gabriel  came  not ;    and  now  dark 

doubts  and  misgivings 
Stole  o'er  the  maiden's  heart ;  and  Basil,   somewhat 

embarrassed. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  241 

\r6ke  the  silence   and  said,   "  if  you  came   by  the 

Atchafalaya, 
How  have  you  nowhere  encountered  my  Gabriel's  boat 

on  the  bayous  ?" 
Over  Evangeline's  face  at  the  words  of  Basil  a  shade 

passed. 
Tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and    she    said,    with   a 

tremulous  accent, 
"  Gone  ?  is  Gabriel  gone  ?"  and,  concealing  her  face  on 

his  shoulder, 
A.11  her  o'erburdened  heart  gave  way,  and  she  wept 

and  lamented. 
Then  the  good  Basil  said, — and  his  voice  grew  blithe 

as  he  said  it, — 
'*  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  child ;  it  is  only  to-day  he 

departed. 
Foolish  boy !  he  has  left  me  alone  with  my  herds  and 

my  horses. 
Moody  and  restless  grown,  and  tried  and  troubled,  his 

spirit 
Could    no    longer    endure    the    calm    of    this    quiet 

existence. 
Thinking  ever  of  thee,  uncertain  and  sorrowful  ever, 
Ever  silent,  or  speaking  only  of  thee  and  his  troubles. 
He  at  length  had  become  so  tedious  to  men  and  to 
^        maidens, 
Tedious  even  to  me,  that  at  length  I  bethought  me, 

and  sent  him 


242  •   THE   FIFTH   READER. 

dnto  the  to\\^  of  xldajes  to  trade  for  mules  with  tho 

Spaniards.  r 

Thence  he  will  follow  the  Indian  trails  to  the  Ozark 

Mountains, 
Hunting  for  furs  in  the  forests,  on  rivers  trapping  the 

beaver. 
Therefore  be  of  good  cheer ;  we  will  follow  the  fugitive 

lover ;  '^ 

He  is  not  far  on  his  way,  and  the  Fates  and  the 

streams  are  against  him. 
Up  and  away  to-morrow,  and  through  the  red  dew  of 

the  morning 
We  will  follow  him  fast  and  bring  him  back  to  hia 

prison." 
3.  Then  glad  voices  were  heard,  and  up  from  the 

banks  of  the  river, 
Borne  aloft  on  his  comrades*  arms,  came  Michael  the 

fiddler. 
Long  under  Basil's  roof  had  he  lived  like  a  god  on 

Olympus, 
Having    no    other    care    than    dispensing    music    to 

mortals. 
Far  renowned  was  he,  for  his  silver  locks   and    his 

fiddle. 
"  Long  live  Michael,"  they  cried,  "  our  brave  Acadian 

minstrel !" 
As  they  bore  him  aloft  in  triumphal  procession ;  and 

straightway 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  243 

Father  Felician  advanced  with  Evangeline,  greeting 

the  old  man 
Kindly  and  oft,  and  recalling  the  past,   while  Basil 

enraptured, 
Hailed  with  hilarious   joy  his  old    companions  and 

gossips. 
Laughing  loud  and  long,  and  embracing  mothers  and 

daughters. 
Much  they  marveled  to  see  the  wealth  of  the  ci-devant 

blacksmith. 
All  his  domains  and  his  herds,  and  his  patriarchal 

demeanor ; 
Much  they  marvelled  to  hear  his  tales  of  the  soil  and 

the  climate. 
And  of  the  prairies,  whose  numberless  herds  were  his 

who  would  take  them  ; 
Each  one  thought  in  his  heart,  that  he,  too,  would  go 

and  do  likewise. 
Thus    they  ascended  the    steps,    and,   crossing    the 

breezy  veranda. 
Entered  the  hall  of    the  house,   where   already  the 

supper  of  Basil 

Waited  his  late  return ;  and  they  rested  and  feasted 

together. 
*  ^<  .      *  * 

4.  Bright  rose  the  sun  next  day    and  all  the  flowers 
of  the  garden 


2M  THE   FIFl^H  KEADER. 

Batlied  liis  shining  feet  witli  their  tears,  and  anointed 

his  tresses 
"With  the  deHcious  balm  that  they  bore  in  their  vases 

of  crystal. 
"Farewell!"    said   the    priest,   as    he    stood    at    the 

shadowy  threshold ; 
"See  that  you  bring  us  the  Prodigal  Son  from  his 

fasting  and  famine, 
And,  too,  the  Foolish  Virgin,  who  slept  when  the 

bridegroom  was  coming." 
"  Farewell !"  answered  the  maiden,  and  smiling,  with 

Basil  descended 
Down  to  the  river's  brink,  where  the  boatmen  already 

were  waiting. 
Thus    beginning    their    journey   with    morning,    and 

sunshine,  and  gladness. 
Swiftly  they  followed    the    flight  of   him    who  was 

speeding  before  them. 
Blown  by  the  blast  of  fate,  like  a  dead  leaf  over  the 

desert. 
Not  that  day,  nor  the  next,  nor  yet  the  day  that 

succeeded. 
Found  they  trace  of  his  course,  in  lake,  or  forest,  or 

river, 
Nor,  after  many  days,  had  they  found  him ;  but  vague 

and  uncertain 
flumors  alone  were  their  guides  through  a  wild  and 

desolate  country  ; 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  245 

Till,  at  the  little  inn  of  the  Spanish  town  of  Adayes, 
Weary  and  worn,  they  alighted,  and  learned  from  the 

garrulous  landlord, 
That  on  the  day  before,  with  horses,  and  guides,  and 

companions. 
Gabriel  left  the  village,  and  took  the  road  of    the 

prairies. 

Som-bee'-bo,  a  hat. 


XLL— EVANGELINE.— Continued. 

1.  Far  in  the  West  there  lies  a  desert  land,  where 

the  mountains 
Lift,  through  perpetual  snows,  their  lofty  and  luminous 

summits. 
Down  from  their   jagged,   deep  ravines,  where  the 

gorge,  like  a  gateway, 
Opens  a  passage  rude  to  the  wheels  of  the  emigrant's 

wagon, 
Westward  the  Oregon  flows  and  the  Walleway  and 

Owyhee. 
Eastward,  with  devious  course,  among  the  Wind-river 

Mountains, 
Through  the  Sweet-water  Yalley  precipitate  leaps  the 

Nebraska  : 
And  to   the  south,  from  Fontaine-que-bout  and   the 

Spanish  sierras, 


246  THE  FIFTH  KEADEK. 

Fretted  with  sands  and  rocks,  and  swbpt  bj  the  wind 

of  the  desert, 
Numberless  torrents,  with  ceaseless  sound,  descend  to 

the  ocean. 
Like  the  great  chords  of  a  harp,  in  loud  and  solemn 

vibrations. 
Spreading  between  these  streams  are  the  wondrous, 

beautiful  prairies, 
Billowy  bays  of   grass  ever  rolling    in  shadow  and 

sunshine, 
Bright  with  luxuriant  clusters  of  roses  and  purple 

amorphas.  m 

Over  them  wandered  the  buffalo  herds,  and  the  elk 

and  the  roebuck : 
Over  them  wandered  the  wolves,  and  herds  of  riderless 

horses  ; 
Fires  that  blast  anfl  bhght,  and  winds  that  are  weary 

with  travel ; 
Over  them  wander  the  scattered  tribes  of  Ishmael's 

children, 
Staining    the  desert  with    blood;    and    above    their 

terrible  war  trails 
Circles  and  sails  aloft,  on  pinions  majestic,  the  vulture, 
Like  the  implacable  soul  of  a  chieftain  slaughtered  in 

battle. 
By  invisible  stairs  ascending  and  scahng  the  heavens. 
Here  and  there  rise  smokes  from  the  camps  of  *  Sese 

savage  marauders ; 


THE  FOURTH  READER.  247 

Here  and  there  rise  groves  from  tlie  margins  of  swift* 

running  rivers ; 
And  the  grim,  taciturn  bear,  the  anchorite  monk  of  the 

desert, 
CHmbs  down  their  dark  ravines  to  dig  for  roots  by  the 

brookside, 
And   over  all  is    the  sky,  the  clear  and  crystalline 

heaven, 
Like  the  protecting  hand  of  God  inverted  above  them. 
2.  Into  this  wonderful  land,  at  the  base  of  the  Ozark 

Mountains. 
Gabriel  far  had  entered,  with  hunters  and  trappers 

behind  him. 
Day  after  day,  with  their  Indian  guides,  the  maiden 

and  Basil 
Followed  his  flying  steps,  and  thought  each  day  to 

o'ertake  him. 
Sometimes  they  saw,  or  thought  they  saw,  the  smoke 

at  his  camp-fire 
Rise  in  the  morning  air  from  the  distant  plain ;  but  at 

nightfall, 
When  they  had  reached  the  place,  they  found  only 

embers  and  ashes. 
And,  though  their  hearts  were  sad  at  times  and  their 

bodies  were  weary, 
Hope  still  guided  them  on,  as  the  magic  Fata  Morgana 
Showed  them  her  lakes  of  light,  that  retreated  and 

vanished  before  them. 


248  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

3,  Once,  as  tney  sat  by  their  evening  fire,   there 

silently  entered 
Into  the  little  camp  an  Indian  woman,  whose  features 
Wore  deep  traces  of  sorrow,  and  patience  as  great  as 

her  sorrow, 
^he  was  a  Shawnee  woman  returning  home  to  her 

people, 
From  the  far-off  hunting-grounds  of  the  cruel  Oa- 

manches. 
Where  her  Canadian  husband,  a  Ooureur-des-Bois, 

had  been  murdered. 
Touched  were  their  hearts  at  her  story,  and  warmest 

and  friendliest  welcome 
Gave  they,  with  words  of  cheer,   and  she  sat  and 

feasted  among  them 
On  the  buffalo-meat  and  the  venison  cooked  on  the 

embers. 
But  when  their  mef\\  was  done,  and  Basil  and  all  his 

companions, 
Worn  with  the  long  day's  march  and  the  chase  of  the 

deer  and  the  bison, 
Stretched  themselves  on  the  ground,  and  slept  where 

the  quivering  fire-Hght 
Flashed  on  their    swarthy  cheeks,   and    their   forms 

wrapped  up  in  their  blankets. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  249 

XLI  (a).— EVANGELINE.— Continued. 

1,  Early  upon  the  morrow  the  march  was  resumed ; 

and  the  Shawnee 
Said,  as  they  journeyed  along,  "  On  the  western  slope 

of  these  mountains 
Dwells  in  his  Uttle  village  the  Black  Eobe  chief  of  the 

Mission. 
Much  he  teaches  the  people,  and  tells  them  of  Mary 

and  Jesus ; 
Loud  laugh  their  hearts  with  joy,  and  weep  with  pain, 

as  they  hear  him." 
Then  with  a  sudden  and  secret  emotion,  Evangeline 

answered, 
"  Let  us  go  to  the  Mission,  for  there  good  tidings  await 

usr 

Thither  they  turned  their  steeds ;  and  behind  a  spur 

of  the  mountains, 
Just  as  the  sun  wot;  down,  they  heard  a  murmur  of 

voices. 
And  in  a  meadow  green  and  broad,  by  the  banks  of  a 

river. 
Saw  the  tents  of  the  Christians,  the  tents  of  the  Jesuit 

Mission. 
Under  a  towering  oak,  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  tix9 

village, 


250  THE  FIFTH  READEB. 

Knelt  tlie  Black  Kobe   chief  with  his  childien.      A 

crucifix  fastened 
High  on  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  overshadowed  by 

grape-vines, 
Looked  with  its  agonized  face  on  the  multitude  kneel- 
ing beneath  it. 
This  was    their  rural    chapel.      Aloft,  through  the 

intricate  arches 
Of  its  aerial  roof,  arose  the  chant  of  their  vespers, 
Mingling  its  notes  with  the  soft  susurrus^  and  sighs  of 

the  branches. 
Silent,  with  heads;  uncovered,  the  travelers,  nearer  ap- 
proaching, 
Knelt  on  the  swarded  floor,  and  joined  in  the  evening 

devotions 
But  when  the  service  was  done,  and  the  benediction 

had  fallen 
Forth  from  the  hands  of  the  priest,  like  seed  from  the 

hands  of  the  sower. 
Slowly  the  reverend  man  advanced  to  the  strangers, 

and  bade  them 
Welcome;    and  when  they  replied,  he  smiled   with 

benignant  expression, 
HeariQg  the  homelike  sounds  of  his  mother-tongue  in 

the  forest, 
Apd,  with  words  of  kindness,  conducted  them  into  his 

wigwam. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  251 

There  upon  mats  and  skins  they  reposed,    and   on 
cakes  of  the  maize-ear 

Feasted,  and  slaked  their  thirst  from  the  water-gourd 
of  the  teacher. 

Soon  was  their  story  told ;  and  the  priest  with  sol- 
emnity answered : 

"  Not  six  suns  have  risen  and    set  since    Gabriel,* 
seated 

On  this  mat  by  my  side,  where  now  the  maiden  re- 
poses, 

Told  me  this  same  sad  tale  ;  then  arose  and  continued 
his  journey  I" 

Soft  was  the  voice  of  the  priest,  and  he  spake  with  an 
accent  of  kindness ; 

But  on  Evangeline's  heart  fell  ^s  words  as  in  winter 
the  snow-flakes 

Fall  into  some  lone  nest  from  which  the  birds  have 
departed. 

**  Far  to  the  north  he  has  gone,"  continued  the  priest ; 
"but  in  autumn. 

When    the  chase  is  done,   will  return  again  to  the 
Mission." 

Then  Evangeline  said,  and  her  voice  was  meek  and 
submissive." 

**  Let  me  remain  with  thee,  for  my  soul  is  sad  and 
afflicted." 


■  252  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

So  seemed  it  wise  and  well  unto  all ;  and  betimes  on 

tlie  morrow, 
Mounting  his  Mexican  steed,  with  his  Indian  guides 

and  companions. 
Homeward  Basil  returned,  and  Evangeline  staid  at  the 

Mission, 
2.  Slowly,  slowly,  slowly  the  days  succeeded  each 

other, — 
Days  and  weeks  and  months  ;  and  the  fields  of  maize 

that  were  springing 
Green  from  the  ground  when  a  stranger  she  came,  now 

waving  above  her. 
Lifted  their  slender  shafts,  with  leaves  interlacing,  and 

forming 
CJloisters  for  mendic%|^  crows  and  granaries  pillaged 

by  squirrels. 

*  Su'-sus-BUS,  a  gentle  humming  sonnd  ;  a  whiiipcr 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  253 


XLI  (6).— EVANGELINE.— Continued.    " 

1.  "  Patience !"  the  priest  would  say ;  "  have  faith  and 

thy  prayer  will  be  answered  I 
Look  at  this  delicate  plant  that  lifts  its  head  from  the 

meadow, 
See  how  its  leaves  are  turned  to  the  north,  as  true  to 

the  magnet ; 
This  is  the  compass  flower  that  the  finger  of  God  has 

planted 
Here  in  the  household  wild,  to  direct  the  traveler's 

journey 
Over    the  sea-like,  pathless,  limitless  waste  of    the 

desert. 
Such  in  the  soul  of  man  is  faith.     The  blossoms  of 

passion, 
Gay  and  luxuriant  flowers,  are  brighter  and  fuller  of 

fragrance. 
But  they  beguile  us,  and  lead  us  astray,  and  their  odor 

is  deadly. 
Only  this  humble  plant  can  guide  us  here,  and  hereafter 
Crown  us  with  asphodel  flowers,  that  are  wel  with  the 

dews  of  nepenthe." 

2.  So  came  the  autumn,  and  passed,  and  the  winter 

yet  Gabriel  came  n  ot ; 


254  THE  FIFTH   BEADER. 

Blossomed  the  opening  spring,  and  the  notes  of  tlia 

robin  and  bluebird 
Sounded  sweet  upon  wold'  and  in  wood,  yet  Gabriel 

came  not. 
But  on  the  breath  of  the  summer  winds  a  rumor  was 

wafted 
Sweeter  than  song  of  bird,  or  hue  or  odor  of  blossom. 
Far  to  the  north  and  east,  it  said,  in  the  Michigan 

forests, 
Gabriel  had  his  lodge  by  the  banks  of  the  Saginaw 

River. 
And,  with  returning  guides,  that  sought  the  lakes  of 

St.  Lawrence, 
Saying    a    sad  farewell,  Evangeline   went    from  the 

Mission. 
When  over  weary  ways,  by  long  and  perilous  marches, 
She  had  attained  at  length  the  depths  of  the  Michigan 

forests, 
Found  she  the  hunter's  lodge  deserted  and  fallen  to 

ruins ! 
3.  Thus  did  the  long  sad  years  glide  on,  and  in 

seasons  and  places 
Divers    and    distant    far    was    seen    the    wandering 

maiden ; — 
Now  in  the  tents  of  Grace  of  the  meek  Moravian 

Missions, 
Now  in  the  noisy  camps  and  the  battle-fields  of  the 

army, 


THE  FIFTH   READER  255 

Now  in  secluded  hamlets,  in    towns  and   populous 

cities. 
Like  a  phantom  she  came,  and  passed  away  unremem- 

bered. 
Fair  was  she  and  young,  when  in  hope  began  the  long 

journey ; 
Faded  was  she  and  old,  when  in  dissappointment  it 

ended. 
Each  •  succeeding    year    stole    something    from    her 

beauty, 
Leaving  behiad  it,  broader  and  deeper,  the  gloom  and 

the  shadow. 
Then  there  appeared  and  spread  faint  streaks  of  gray 

o'er  her  forehead, 
Dawn   of    another  .hfe   that  broke   o'er  her   earthly 

horizon. 
As  in  the  eastern  sky  the  first  faint  streaks  of  the 

morning. 

»  WoiiD,  a  plain  or  lawn. 


XLEE,— EVANGELINE.— CoNTiNTJED.  • 

1.  In  that  delightful  land  which  is  washed  by  the 
Delaware's  waters, 
Guarding  in  sylvan  shades  the  name  of  Penn   the 
apostle. 


256  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Stands  on  the  banks  of  its  beautiful  stream  the  city  he 

founded. 
There  all  the  air  is  balm,  and  the  peach  is  the  emblem 

of  beauty, 
And  the  streets  still  re-echo  the  names  of  the  trees  of 

the  forest,    " 
As  if    they  fain  would  appease  the  Dryads  whoso 

haunts  they  molested. 
There  from  the  troubled  sea  had  Evangeline  landed, 

an  exile. 
Finding  among  the  children  of  Penn  a  home  and  a 

country. 
There  old  Eene  Leblano    had  died;    and  when  he 

departed. 
Saw  at  his  side  only  one  of .  all  his  hundred  descend- 
ants. 
Something  at  least  there  was  in  the  friendly  streets  of 

the  city. 
Something  that  spake  to  her  heart,  and  made  her  no 

longer  a  stranger ; 
And  her  ear  was  pleased  with  the  Thee  and  Thou  of 

the  Quakers, 
For  it  recalled  the  past,  the  old  Acadian  country, 
Wliere  all  men  were  equal,  and  all  were  brothers  and 

and  sisters. 
So,  when  the    fruitless  search,  the  disappointed  en- 

dinv(w, 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  257 

Ended,  to  rocommence  no  more  upon  earth,  uncom- 
plaining. 
Thither,  as   leaves  to   the  light,  were  turned  upon  her 

thoughts  and  her  footsteps. 
As  from   a   mountain's   top  the  rainy  mists    of    tho 

morning 
Roll  away,  and  afar  we  behold  the  landscape  below  us, 
Sun-illumined,  with    shining    rivers  and    cities    and 

hamlets, 
So  fell  the  mists  from  her  mind,  and  she  saw  the  world 

far  below  her. 
Dark  no  longer,  but  all  illumined  with  love ;  and  the 

pathway 
Which  she  had  climbed  so  far,  lying  smooth  and  fair 

in  the  distance. 


yTiH  (a).— EVANGELINB.— OoNTnnjED. 

1.  Patience  and  abnegation  of  self,  and  devotion  to 
others, 


258  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

This  was  the  lesson  a  life  of  trial  and  sorrow  had 

taught  her. 
So  was  her  love  diffused,  but,  like  to  some  odorous 

spices, 
Suffered  no  waste  nor  loss,  though  filling  the  air  with 

aroma. 
Other  hope  had  she  none,  nor  wish  in  life,  but  to 

follow 
Meeklj,  with  reverent  steps,  the  sacred  feet  of  hor 

Saviour. 
Thus  many  years  she  lived  as  a  Sister  of  Mercy; 

frequenting 
Lonely  and  wretched  roofs  in  the  crowded  lanes  of  the 

city. 
Where  distress  and  want  concealed  themselves  from 
%  the  sunlight. 

Where    disease    and    sorrow    in    garrets    languished 

neglected. 
Night  after  night,  when  the  world  was  asleep,  as  t]je 

watchman  repeated 
Loud,  through  the  gusty  streets,  that  all  was  well  in 

the  city, 
High  at  some  lonely  window  he  saw  the  light  of  her 

taper. 
Day   after    day,   in  the   gray   of  the   daw^n,   as  slow 

through  the  suburbs 
Plodded  the  German  farmer,  with  flowers  and  fruits  for 

the  market. 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  259 

Met  he  that  meek,  pale  face,  returning  home  from  its 

watch 
2.  Then  it  came  to  pass  that  a  pestilence  fell  on  the 

city, 
Presaged  by  wondrous  signs,  and  mostly  by  flocks  of 

wild  pigeons. 
Darkening  the  sun  in  their  flight,  with  naught  in  their 

craws  but  an  acorn. 
And,  as  the  tides  of  the  sea  arise  in  the  month  of 

September, 
Flooding  some  silver  stream,  till  it  spreads  to  a  lake  in 

the  meacjow. 
So  death  flooded*  life,   and,  o'erflowing    its    natural 

margin. 
Spread  to    a    brackish    lake,    the    silver    stream   of 

existence. 
Wealth  had  no  power  to  bribe,  nor  beauty  to  charm, 

the  oppressor ; 
But  all    perished  alike  beneath  the  scourge  of    his' 

anger ; — 
Only,  alas !  the  poor,   who  had  neither  friends  nor 

attendants. 
Crept  away  to  die  in  the  almshouse,   home  of   tlie 

homeless. 
Then  in  the  suburbs  it  stood,  in  the  midst  of  meadows 

and  woodlands ; — 
Now  the  city  surjcounds  it ;  but  still,  with  its  gateway 

and  wicket 


260  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Meek,  in  the  midst  of  splendor,  its  humble  walls  seem 

to  echo 
Softly  the  words  of  the  Lord  : — "  The  poor  ye  always 

have  with  you." 
Thither,  by  night  and  by  day,  came   the  Sister  of 

Mercy.     The  dying 
Looked    up  iato  her    face,  and  thought,  indeed,  to 

behold  there 
Gleams  of  celestial  light  encircle  her  forehead  with 

splendor. 
Such  as  the  artist  paints  o'er  the  brows  of  saints  and 

apostles. 
Or  such  as  hangs  by  night  o'er  a  city  seen   at  a 

distance. 
Unto  their  eyes  it  seemed  the  lamps    of    the    city 

celestial, 
Into  whose  shining  gates  ere  long  their  spirits  would 

enter. 
3.  Thus,  on  a  Sabbath  morn,  through  the  streets, 

deserted  and  silent, 
Wending  her  quiet  way,  she  entered  the  door  of  the 

almshouse. 
S\\  eet  on  the  summer  air  was  the  odor  of  flowers  in  the 

garden ; 
And  she  paused  on  her  way  to  gather  the  fairest 

among  them, 
That  the  dying  once  more  might    rejoice    in    their 

fragrance  and  beauty. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  261 

Til 071,   ds  sli©  mounted  the   stairs  to  the  corridors, 

cooled  by  the  east-wind, 
Distant  and  soft  on  her  ear  fell  the  chimes  from  the 

belfry  of  Christ  Church. 
While,  intermingled  with  these,  across  the  meadows 

were  wafted 
Sounds  of  psalms,  that  were  sung  by  the  Swedes  in 

their  church  at  Wicaco. 
Soft  as  descending  wings  fell  the  calm  of  the  hour  on 

her  spirit ; 
Something  within  her  said,  "At  length  thy  trials  are- 

ended" ; 
And,  with  light  in  her  looks,  she  entered  the  chambers 

of  sickness. 
Noiselessly  moved  about  the  assiduous,  careful  attend- 
ants, 
Moistening  the  feverish  lip,  and  the  aching  brow,  and 

in  silence 
Closing  the  sightless  eyes  of  the  dead,  and  concealing 

their  faces. 
Where  on  their  pallets  they  lay,  like  drifts  of  snow 

by  the  roadside. 
Many  a  languid  head,  upraised  as  Evangeline  entered, 
Turned  on  its  pillow  of  pain  to  gaze  while  she  passed, 

for  her  presence 
Fell  on  their  hearts  like  a  ray  of  the  sun  on  the  walla 

of  a  prison. 


262  THE  FTFTH  READER. 

And,  as  she  looked  around,  slie  saw  how  Death,  the 

consoler, 
Laying  his  hand  upon  many  a  heart,  had  healed  it 

forever^ 


XLn  (&).-GLOBY  OF  THE  EELIQIOUS  OBDEES. 

LEIBNITZ. 

Leibnitz  was  bom  in  Leipsio  in  1646 ;  died  in  1716.  He  was  an 
eminent  mathematician  and  pMLosopher. 

Since  the  glory  of  God  and  the  happiness  of  our 
fellow-creatures  may  be  promoted  by  various  means, 
by  command  or  by  example,  according  to  the  con- 
dition and  disposition  of  each,  the  advantages  of  that 
institution  are  manifest,  by  which,  besides  those  who 
are  engaged  in  active  and  every-day  life,  there  are 
also  found  in  the  Church  ascetic  and  contemplative 
men,  who,  abandoning  the  cares  of  life,  and  trampling 
its  pleasures  under  foot,  devote  their  whole  being  to 
the  contemplation  of  the  Deity,  and  the  admiration  of 
his  works  ;  or  who  freed  from  personal  concerns,  apply 
themselves  exclusively  to  watch  and  relieve  the  neces- 
sities of  others;  some  by  instructing  the  ignorant  or 
erring ;  some  by  assisting  the  needy  and  afflicted. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  263 

2.  Nor  is  it  the  least  araongst  those  marks  which 
commend  to  us  that  Church,  which  alone  has  pre- 
served the  name  and  the  badges  of  Catholicity,  that  we 
see  her  alone  produce  and  cherish  these  illustrious  ex- 
amples of  the  eminent  virtues  and  of  the  ascetic  life. 

Wherefore,  I  confess,  that  I  have  ardently  admired 
the  religious  orders,  and  the  pious  confraternities,  and 
the  other  similar  admirable  institutions ;  for  they 
are  a  sort  of  celestial  soldiery  upon  earth,  provided, 
corruptions  and  abuses  being  removed,  they  are  gov- 
erned according  to  the  institutes  of  the  founders,  and 
regulated  by  the  supreme  Pontiff  for  the  use  of  the  uni- 
versal Church. 

3.  For  what  can  be  more  glorious  than  to  carry  the 
light  of  truth  to  distant  nations,  through  seas  and  fires 
and  swords — to  traffic  in  the  salvation  of  souls  alone, 
— to  forego  the  allurements  of  pleasure,  and  even  the 
enjoyment  of  conversation  and  of  social  intercourse,  in 
order  to  pursue,  undisturbed,  the  contemplation  of  ab- 
struse truths  and  divine  meditation — to  dedicate  one's 
self  to  the  education  of  youth  in  science  and  in  virtue, 
— to  assist  and  console  the  wretched,  the  despairing, 
the  lost,  the  captive,  the  condemned,  the  sick — in 
squalor,  in  chains,  in  distant  lands, — undeterred  even 
by  the  fear  of  pestilence  from  the  lavish  exercise  of 
these  heavenly  offices  of  charity ! 


264  THE   FIFTH  READER. 

4:.  The  man  who  knows  not,  or  despises  these  things, 
has  but  a  vulgar  and  plebeian  conception  of  virtue  :  he 
foolishly  measures  the  obligations  of  men  towards 
their  God  by  the  perfunctory  discharge  of  ordinary 
duties,  and  by  that  frozen  habit  of  life,  devoid  of  zeal, 
and  even  of  soul,  which  prevails  commonly  among 
men.  For  it  is  not  a  counsel,  as  some  persuade  them- 
selves, but  a  strict  precept,  to  labor  with  every  power 
of  soul  and  body,  no  matter  in  what  condition  of  life 
we  may  be,  for  the  attainment  of  Christian  perfection, 
with  which  neither  wedlock,  nor  children,  nor  public 
office  are  incompatible  (although  they  throw  difficul- 
ties in  the  way);  but  it  is  only  a  counsel  to  select  that 
state  of  life  which  is  more  free  from  earthly  obstacles, 
upon  which  selection  our  Lord  congratulated  Magdalen. 

'  Peb-funo'-to-et,  slight,  careless;  done  only  for  the  sake  of  getting 
rid  of  the  duty. 


To  the  Eeligions  orders  we  are  indebted  f  r  the  preservation  of 
ancient  literature,  and  for  the  culture  and  elevation  of  the  Fire  Arta^ 
wspeciallj  Christian  Architecture,  Music,  and  Painting. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  265 

XLIIL-SETTLEI4J;NT  of  MABIIiAND. 

GKAHAME. 

Liilucnced  b}'  a  desire  to  provide  au  asylum  for  Catholics,  then 
persecuted  in  England,  Sir  George  Calveit,  a  Koman  Catholic  noble- 
man, whose  title  was  Lord  Baltimore,  applied  for  a  charter  to  establish 
a  colony  in  America.  King  Charles  readily  agreed  to  make  the  grant, 
but  before  the  document  received  the  royal  seal,  Calvert  died.  It 
wad  then  issued  to  Cecil  Calvert,  son  of  Sir  George,  who  by  the  death 
of  hii?  father,  inherited  the  title  of  Lord  Baltimore.  The  province 
was  called  Maryland,  in  honor  of  Henrietta  Maria,  wife  of  Charles  I. 

The  following  is  extracted  from  Grahame's  '*  Colonial  History  of 
the  United  States." 

1.  The  first  band  of  emigrantSj  consisting  of  about 
two  hundred  gentlemen  of  considerable  rank  and 
fortune,  professing  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  with  a 
number  of  inferior  adherents,  in  a  vessel  called  Tlije 
Ark  and  the  Dove,  sailed  from  England  under  the  com 
mand  of  Leonard  Calvert,  in  November,  1633 ;  and, 
after  a  prosperous  voyage,  reached  the  coast  of  Mary- 
land, near  the  mouth  of  the  river  Potomac,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  following  year  [1634] .  The  governor, 
as  soon  as  he  landed,  erected  a  cross  on  the  shore,  and 
took  possession  of  the  country  "  for  our  Saviour  and 
for  our  sovereign  lord  the  King  of  England." 

2.  Aware  that  the  first  settlement  of  Virginia  had 
given  umbrage^  to  the  Indians  by  occupying  their 
territory  without  demanding  their  permission,  he 
determined  to  imitate  the  wiser  and  ju^er  policy  that 
was  pursued  by  the  colonists  of  New  England,  and  to 
unite  the  new  with  the  ancient  race  of  inhabitants  by 
the  ties  of  equity,  good -will,  and  mutual  advantage 


260  THE   FIFTH    READER. 

The  Indian  chief,  to  whom  .^e  addressed  his  proposi- 
tion of  occupying  a  portion  of  the  country,  answered 
at  first  with,  a  sullen  affectation  of  indifference, — the 
result  most  probably  of  aversion  to  the  measure  and 
of  conscious  inability  to  resist  it, — that  he  would  not 
bid  the  English  go,  neither  would  he  bid  them  stay, 
but  that  he  left  them  to  their  own  discretion. 

3.  The  liberality  and  courtesy,  however,  of  the 
governor's  demeanor  succeeded  at  length  in  conciliat- 
ing the  Indian's  regard  so  powerfully,  that  he  not  only 
established  a  friendly  league  between  the  colonists  and 
his  own  people,  but  persuaded  the  other  neighboring 
tribes  to  accede  to  the  treaty,  and  warmly  declared, 
"  I  love  the  English  so  well,  that,  if  they  should  go 
about  to  kill  me,  if  I  had  so  much  breath  as  to  ask  to 
speak,  I  would  command  my  people  not  to  revenge  my 
death ;  for  I  know  they  would  not  do  such  a  thing, 
except  it  were  through  my  own  fault." 

4.  Having  purchased  the  rights  of  the  aborigines  at 
a  price  which  gave  them  perfect  satisfaction,  the  colon- 
ists obtained  possession  of  a  large  district,  including 
an  Indian  town,  which  they  forthwith  occupied,  and 
distinguished  by  the  name  of  St.  Mary's.  It  was  not 
till  their  numbers  had  undergone  a  considerable  in- 
crease that  they  judged  it  necessary  to  frame  a  code  of 
laws  and  establish  their  political  constitution.  They 
lived  for  some  time  in  a  social  union,  resembling  the 
domestic  regimen  of  a  patriarchal  family  ;  and  con- 


V 


THE   FIFTH   HEADER.  2G7 

fined  their  attention  to  the  providing  of  food  and  habi- 
tations for  themselves  and  the  associates  by  whom 
they  expected  to  be  reinforced. 

5.  The  lands  which  were  ceded  to  them  yielded  a 
ready  increase,  because  they  had  already  undergone 
the  discipline  of  Indian  villages;  and  this  circum- 
stance, as  well  as  the  proximity  of  Virginia,  which  now 
afforded  an  abundant  supply  of  the  necessaries  of  life, 
enabled  the  colonists  of  Maryland  to  escape  the 
ravages  of  that  calamity  which  had  afflicted  the 
infancy  of,  and  nearly  proved  fatal  to,  the  other  settle- 
ments of  the  English  in  xVmerica.  So  luxuriant  were 
their  crops,  that,  within  two  years  after  their  arrival 
in  the  province,  they  exported  ten  thousand  bushels 
of  Indian  corn  to  New  England,  for  the  purchase  of 
salted  fish  and  other  provisions. 

6.  The  tidings  of  their  safe  and  c9mfortable  establish- 
ment, conspiring  with  the  uneasiness  experienced  by 
the  Boman  Catholics  in  England,  induced  considerable 
numbers  of  the  professors  of  this  faith  to  follow  the 
original  emigrants  to  Maryland  ;  and  no  efforts  of 
wisdom  or  generosity  were  spared  by  Lord  Baltimore 
to  promote  the  population  and  the  happiness  of  the 
colony.  The  transportation  of  people  and  of  necessary 
stores  and  provisions,  during  the  first  two  years,  cost 
him  upward  of  forty  thousand  pounds. 

7.  To  every  emigrant  he  assigned  fifty  acres  of  land 
in  absolute  fee ;   and  with  a  liberality  unparalleled  in 


2G8  THE  FIFTH  EEM)ER. 

that  age,  Le  united  a  general  recognition  of  Cliristiauity 
as  the  established  faith  of  the  land,  with  an  exclusion 
of  the  political  predominance  or  superiority  of  any  one 
particular  sect  or  denomination  of  Christians.  This 
wise  administration  soon  converted  a  desolate  wilder- 
ness into  a  flourishijig  commonwealth,'*  enlivened  by 
industry  and  adorned  by  civilization.  It  is  a  proof  at 
once  of  the  success  of  his  policy,  and  of  the  prosperity 
and  happiness  of  the  colonists,  that,  a  very  few  years 
after  the  first  occupation  of  the  province,  they  granted 
to  their  proprietary  a  large  subsidy^  of  tobacco,  in 
grateful  acknowledgment  of  his  liber aUty  and  benefi- 
cence. Similar  tributes  continued,  from  time  to  time, 
to  attest  the  merit  of  the  proprietary,  and  the  attach- 
ment of  the  people 

8.  In  the  Assembly  a  magnanimous  attempt  was 
made  to  preserve  j;he  peace  of  the  colony,  by  ex- 
tinguishing within  its  limits  one  of  the  most  fertile 
sources  of  human  strife  and  animosity.  It  had  been 
proclaimed  from  the  very  beginning  by  the  proprietary 
that  religious  toleration  should  constitute  one  of  the 
fundamental  principles  of  the  social  union  over  which 
he  presided  ;  and  the  Assembly  of  the  province  com- 
posed chiefly  of  Eoman  Catholics,  now  proceeded,  by 
a  memorable  Act  concerning  Religion,  to  interweave  this 
noble  principle  into  its  legislative  constitutions  (1649). 

9.  The  statute  commenced  with  a  preamble,  declar- 
ing that  the  enforcement  of  the  conscience  had  been  of 


THE   FOUPiTH   liEADKR.  269 

dangerous  consequence  in  those  countries  wherein  it 
had  been  practiced  ;  and  ordained  that,  thereafter,  no 
persons  professing  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ  should  be 
molested  on  account  of  their  faith,  or  denied  the  free 
exercise  of  their  particular  modes  of  worship ;  that 
persons  molesting  any  individual,  on  account  of  his 
religious  tenets  or  eQclesiastical*  practices,  should  pay 
treble  damages  to  the  party  aggrieved,  and  twenty 
shillings  to  the  proprietary;  that  those  who  should 
reproach  their  neighbors  withr  opprobrious  ®  names  or 
epithets,^  inferring  religious  distinctions,  should  forfeit 
ten  shilling  to  the  persons  so  insulted  ;  that  any  one 
speaking  reproachfully  against  the  blessed  Virgin  or 
the  apostles  should  forfeit  live  pounds ;  and  that 
blasphemy  against  God  should  be  punished  with 
death. 

10.  By  the  enactment  of  this  statute,  the  Catholic 
planters  of  Maryland  procured  to  their  adopted  coun- 
try the  distinguished  praise  of  being  the  first  of  the 
American  States  in  which  toleration  was  established 
by  law ;  and  graced  their  peculiar  faith  with  the 
signal  and  unwonted  merit  of  protecting  those  rights 
of  conscience  which  no  other  Christian  association  in 
the  world  was  yet  sufficiently  humane  and  enlightened 
to  recognize.  It  is  a  striking  and  instructive  spectacle 
to  behold  at  this  period  the  Puritans  persecuting  their 
Pr(  testant  bretliren  in  New  England  ;  the  Protestant 
Epi.scop^^liaus  inflicting  similar    igor  and  injustice  on 


270 


THE  FIFTH  READER. 


the  Puritans  in  Virginia;  and  the  Catholics,  against 
whom  all  the  others  were  combined,  forming  in  Mary- 
land a  sanctuary  where  Christians  of  every  denom- 
ination might  worship,  yet  none  might  oppress,  and 
where  even  Protestants  sought  refuge  from  Protestant 
intolerance.  * 


•  Um'-brage,  offense. 

»  Oom'-mon-w«alth,  the  common 
good  or  happiness  ;  that  form 
of  go\ornment  best  suited  to 
procure  the  pubhc  good. 

»  SuB'-si-DT,  supply  given  to  aid 
the  rt  •opriotary,  by  which  name 


the  government  of  Maryland 
was  formerly  known. 

4  Ec-cle-si'-as-ti-caij,  pertaining 
to  the  Church. 

•  Op-peo'-bbi-ous,  contemptuous ; 
scurrilous. 

6  Ep'-i-thets,  words  used  in  re- 
proach. 


XLIV.— THE  GOOD  OLD  TIMES. 

NEALE. 

1.  Oh !  the  good  old  times  of  England,  ere  in  her  evil 

clay. 
From  their  Holy  Faith,  and  her  ancient  rites,  her  people 

fell  away ; 
Wlien  her   gentlemen   had    hands  to   give,   and  her 

yeomen  hearts  to  feel ; 
And  they  raised  full  many  a  bead-house,  but  never  a 

bastile ; 
And  the  poor  they  honored,  for  they  knew  that  He  who 

for  us  bled, 
Had  seldom,  when  He  crime  on  earth,  whereon  to  lay 

His  head ; 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  271 

And  by  the  poor  man's  dying   bed  the   holy  pastor 

stood, 
To  fortify  the  parting  soul  with  that  celestial  Food. 

2.  And  in  the  mortal  agony  the  priest  ye  might  behold, 
Commending  to  his  Father's  hands  a  sheep  of  his  own 

fold; 
And,  when  the  soul  was  fled  from  earth,  the  Church 

could  do  yet  more ; 
For  the  chanting  priests  came  slow  in  front,  and  the 

Cross  went  on  before, 
And  o'er  the  poor  man's  pall  they  bade  the  sacred 

banner  wave. 
To  teach  her  sons  that  Holy  Church  hath  victory  o'er 

the  grave ; 
But  times  and  things  are  altered  now,  and  Englishmen 

begin 
To  class  the  beggar  with  the  knave,  and  poverty  with 

sin. 

3.  We  shut  them  up  from  tree  and  flower,  and  from  the 

blessed  sun ; 

We  tear  iia  twain  the  hearts  that  God  in  wedlock  had 
made  one — 

The  hearts  that  beat  so  faithfully,  reposing  side  by  side, 

For  fifty  years  of  weal  and  woe,  from  eve  till  morning- 
tide  ; 

No  gentle  nun  with  her  comfort  sweet,  no  friar  standeth 
nigh, 


1272  THE  FIFTH   KEADEB. 

With  ghostly  strength  and  holy  love,  to  close  the  poor 

man's  eye ; 
But  the  corpse  is  thrown  into  the  ground,  when  the 

prayers  are  Lurried  o'er, 
To  rest  in  peace  a  little  while,  and  then  make  way  for 
f      more ! 

4.  We  mourn  not  for  abbey  lands,  e'en  pass  they  as 

they  may ! 
But  we  mourn  because  the  tyrant  found  a  richer  spoil 

than  they ; 
He  cast  away,  as  a  thing  defiled,  the  remembrance  ol 

the  just. 
And  the  relics  of  the  martyrs  he  scattered  to  the  dust ; 
Yet  two,  at  least,  in  their  holy  shrines,   escaped  the 

spoiler's  hand ; 
And  St.  Cuthbert  and  St.  Edward  might  alone  redeem 

a  land ! 
And  still  our  litanies  ascend,  like  incense,  as  before ; 
And  still  we  hold  the  one  full  faith  Nicsea  taught  of 

yore. 

6.  And  still  our  children,  duly  plunged  in  the  baptismal 

flood 
Of  water  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  are  made  the  Sons  of 

God; 
And  still  our  solemn  festivals  from  age  to  age  endure, 
And  wedded  troth^  remains  as  firm,  and  wedded  love  ail 

pure. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  278 

And  many  au  earnest  prayer   ascends  fi'om  many  a 

hidden  spot ; 
And  England's  Church  is  Catholic,  though  England's 

self  be  not ! 
England  of  Saints!  the  hour  is  come — for  nisjher  it 

may  be 
Than  yet  I  deem,  albeit  that  day  I  may  not  live  to  see, 

6.  When  all  thy  commerce,  all  thy  arts,  and  wealth,  and 

power,  and  fame. 
Shall  melt  away  at  thy  most  need,  like  wax  before  £he 

flame  ; 
Then  shalt  thou  find  thy  truest  strength,  thy  martyis* 

prayers  above  : 
Then  shalt  thou  find  thy  truest  wealth,  their  holy  deer'.s 

of  love ; 
And  thy  Church,  awaking  from  her  sleep,  come  glorious 

forth  at  length. 
And  in  sight  of  angels  and  of  men,  display  her  hidden 

strength. 
Again  shall  long  processions  sweep  through  Lincoln's 

Minster  pile ; 
Again  shall  banner,  cross,  and  cone,^  gleam  through  the 

incensed  aisle. 

7.  And  the  faithful  dead  shall  claim  their  part  in  the 

Church's  thoughtful  prayer, 
And  the  daily  sacrifice  to  God  be  duly  offered  thore ;         '   . 


274  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

And  tierce,  and  nones,  and  matins,  shall   liave  each 

their  holy  lay ; 
And  the  Angelus  at  Compline  shall  sweetly  close  the 

day. 
England  of  Saints,  the  peace  will  dawn,  but  not  without 

the  fight ; 
So,  come  the  contesij,  when  it  may,  and  God  defend  the 

right ! 

'  Teoth,  faith  ;  fidelity.  I       top  terminates  in  a  point  like  a 

«  Cone,  a  spire,  or  figure,  whose  |       sugar-loaf. 


XLV.— MARYLAND. 

W.  O.    EEED, 


1.  The  land  of  Mary,  so  named  at  the  instance  of 
Henrietta  Maria,  was  to  receive,  in  its  sheltered  seclu- 
sion, the  suffering  brethren  in  the  faith  of  the  youthful 
queen.  But  the  exactions  of  the  Penal  Code  so  impo- 
verished the  Cathohcs  of  England  and  Ireland,  from 
among  whom  the  first  emigrants  were  collected,  that  it 
was  only  at  an  immense  expense,  out  of  his  private  for- 
tune, which  had,  as  yet,  through  causes  already  alluded 
to,  remained  intact,  that  the  proprietary  was  enabled 
to  equip,  under  the  conduct  of  his  brother,  who  seems 
to  have  been  eminently  fitted  for  the  trust,  an  expedi- 
tion of  about  two  hundred  gentlemen,  including  their 
domestics. 

2.  With  equal  piety  and  taste,  he  denominates  "  The 


THE  FIFTH  REAPER.  275 

Ark,"  tlie  stout  ship  that  was  to  bear  this  family  from 
the  devastation  of  the  ancient  world,  with  the  sacred 
traditions  of  primeval  times,  to  the  green  bosom  of  a 
now  earth.  Her  light  consort  is  named  "  The  Dove," 
and  the  voyagers  prepare  to  leave  their  home. 

3.  Their  home !  What  a  tale  of  sorrow  is  concen- 
trated in  that  single  word !  a  sensual  utilitarianism^  had 
not  then  subdued  the  best  feelings  of  the  heart  and 
philosophized  the  expatriation  of  a  family,  down  to  the 
oold  calculations  of  expediency  that  direct  the  migra- 
tion of  a  commercial  firm.  The  country  had  trampled 
and  spurned  them,  but  it  was  reserved  for  modern  times 
to  hear,  that  "  to  make  us  love  our  country,  our  coun- 
try must  be  lovely."  Oh  no !  such  is  not  the  language 
of  truth  and  nature. 

4.  We  love  our  country,  because  it  is  our  countr}^ 
mauger  the  malice  or  misrule  of  man  !  God  h'^s,  for 
wise  purposes,  implanted  in  our  bosoms  the  principle 
of  attachment.  We  love  through  the  blest  necessity 
of  loving,  ere  we  can  well  distinguish  good  from  evil. 
Like  the  climbing  plants,  our  affections  must  cling  to 
something,  and  they  twine  around  the  objects  of  our 
early  associations  with  a  tenacity  that  no  violence  can 
ever  tear  away.  They  may  wither  through  neglect ; 
they  may  be  blighted  by  unkindness ;  but  the  tender 
grasp  of  their  first  luxuriance  only  stiffens  in  death. 

5.  And  the  Pilgrims  of  Maryland,  what  had  they  to 
''mve?     They  Wc^e   mostly,  as  I  have  stated,   of  the 


276  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

well-born  of  tlie  land,  lionorable  througli  long  descent, 
and  the  constancy  with  which  themselves  had  adhered 
to  the  faith  of  their  fathers.  They  aud  their  progeni- 
tors had  sealed  their  devotion  to  it,  not  always,  per- 
il ;ips,  in  that  physical  martyrdom  which  rouses  man- 
hood, which  is  sustained  by  the  countenance  and 
prayers  of  admiring  and  sympathizing  friends,  or  the 
proud  consciousness  that  its  firmness  animates  some 
fainting  brother ;  no !  like  those  unheeded  and  impitied 
martyrs,  who  bleed  and  burn  in  the  secret  cells  of  the 
heart,  cut  off  from  all  earthly  sources  of  sympathy  and 
consolation,  they  had  endured  in  povert}'  and  distress, 
in  contempt  and  obscurity  ;  but  still  they  failed  not — 

— "Unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrified, 

Their  consttancy  they  kept,  their  love,  their  zeal ; 

Nor  number  nor  example  with  them  wrought, 

To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  their  constant  mind." 

And  dear  to  them  was  the  fair  land  they  were  to  leave, 
with  its  hallowed  associations,  its  old  family  recollec- 
tions, its  memorials  of  the  friendship  strong  as  death, 
that  had  suffered  with  them,  often  in  spite  of  temp- 
tation or  prejudice. 

6.  Above  all,  it  was  England  with  her  white  cliffs, 
lier  verdant  meads,  her  "  mossed  trees  that  had 
outlived  the  eagle ;"  her  ocean  breezes,  vocal  with  the 
language  of  Chaucer  and  Spenser,  of  Dryden  and 
Shakespeare,  and  "all-accomplished  Surrey;"  the 
"royal  throne  of  Alfred,"  and  the  sainted  Edward; 
fte  nursing  land  of  chivalry ;   of    a  third  Edward 


THE  FIFTH  HEADER.  2,-7 

of  a  Black  Prince,  of  the  men  of  Crecy,  Poictiers,  and 
Agincourt,  the  Nevilles,  the  Chandos,  the  Staf- 
fords,  the  Cliffords,  the  Spencers,  the  Talbots — the 
men  who  sought  the  shock  of  nations  as  they  did  the 
fierce  pastime  of  the  tourney — who  bowed  in  confes- 
sion, and  knelt  at  Mass,  and  received  thoir  incarnate 
God,  sheathed  in  the  armor  that  might  coffin  Iheir 
corpses  ere  the  sun  went  down;  England,  rich  in 
monuments  of  the  free  jurisprudence  of  her  early 
(catholic  times — the  work  of  her  Bractons,  her  Britons, 
her  Fortescues  ;  rich  in  the  monuments  of  her  old 
Catholic  charity — her  churches,  before  which  modern 
imitation  sits  down  abashed  and  despairing ;  her  cities 
of  colleges,  whose  scholars  once  were  avmies  ;  richer 
in  the  virtue  of  her  saints,  her  Beckets,  ]  3r  Mores,  her 
Fishers,  and  the  countless  array  whose  lames,  though 
unhonored  on  earth,  are  registered  in  ihe  Book  of 
Life,  and  whose  blood  pleads  louder  ij  heaven  than 
the  prayers  of  her  Sibthorpes  and  h  jr  Spencers,  for 
the  return  to  Christian  unity  of  the  l/eautiful  land  it 
has  made  holy ! 

•  Uinjj-i-TA'-Bi-AN-isM,  the  doctrine  that  every  xhing  Is  right  which 
appears  to  bo  useful,  irrespective  of  the  teachings  the  Oaarch. 


278  .        ^  THE  nSTH  EEADEK. 

XLVL— THE  FEMALE  MAETYR. 

WHITTIEIi. 

Mary  0--*i»4vv  aged  eighteen,  a  "Sister  of  Charity,"  died  in  one 
of  our  Atlantic  cities  during  the  prevalence  of  the  Asiatic  choh^ra, 
while  in  voluntary  attendance  on  the  sick. 

1.  For  thou  wast  one  in  whom  the  hght 
Of  Heaven's  own  love  was  kindled  well, 
Enduring  with  a  martyr's  might, 
Through  every  day  and  wakeful  night, 
Far  more  than  words  may  tell : 

Gentle,  and  meek,  and  lowly,  and  unknown  - 
Thy  mercies  measured  by  thy  God  alone ! 

2.  "Where  many  hearts  were  failing, — where 
The  throngful  street  grew  foul  with  death, 
O,  high-souled  martyr ! — thou  wast  there 
InhaHng  from  the  loathsome  air 
Poison  with  every  breath, 

Yet  shrinking  not  from  offices  of  dread 

For  the  wrung  dying,  and  the  unconscious  dead 

3.  And,  where  the  sickly  taper  shed 

Its  Hght  through  vapors,  damp,  confined, 

A  new  Electra  by  the  bed 

Of  suffering  human-kind ! 

Pointing  the  spirit,  in  its  dark  dismay. 

To  that  pure  hope  which  fadeth  not  away. 

4.  Innocent  teacher  of  the  high 
And  holy  mysteries  of  Heaven  1 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  2T9 

In  mute  and  awful  sympathy, 

As  thy  low  prayers  were  given ; 

And  the  o'erhovering  Spoiler  wore,  the  while 

An  angel's  features — a  deliverer's  smile  1 

%• 
6.  A  blessed  task !  and  worthy  one 
Who  turning  from  the  world,  as  thou, 
Before  life's  pathway  had  begun 
To  leave  its  spring-time  flower  and  sun, 
Had  sealed  her  early  vow ; 
Giving  to  God  her  beauty  and  her  youth,        ^ 
Her  pure  affections  and  her  guileless  truth. 

6.  Earth  may  not  claim  thee.     Nothing  here 
Could  be  for  thee  a  meet  reward  ; 

Thine  is  a  treasure  far  more  dear — 

Eye  hath  not  seen  it,  nor  the  ear 

Of  living  mortal  heard, — 

The  joys  prepared  —the  promised  bliss  above— 

The  holy  presence  of  Eternal  Love  ! 

7.  Sleep  on  in  peace.     The  earth  has  not 
A  nobler  name  than  thine  shall  be. 

The  deeds  by  martial  manhood  wrought, 
The  lofty  energies  of  thought, 

The  fire  of  poesy — 
These  have  but  frail  and  fading  honors  ; — thine 
Shall  Time  unto  Eternity  consign. 


280  THE   FIFFH   READER. 

8.  Tea,  and  wlien  thrones  shall  crumble  down, 
And  human  pride  and  grandeur  fall, — 
The  herald's  line  of  long  renown 
The  miter  and  the  kingly  crown — 
Terishing  glories  all ! 
The  pure  devotion  of  thy  generous  heart 
Shall  live  in  Heaven,  of  which  it  was  a  part. 


XLVn  .—MOUNTAINS. 

WHiMAM    HOWIT. 

1.  Thanks  be  to  God  for  mountains !  The  variety 
which  they  impart  to  the  glorious  bosom  of  our  planet 
were  no  small  advantage ;  the  beauty  which  they 
spread  out  to  our  vision  in  their  woods  and  waters  ; 
their  crags  and  slopes,  theii*  clouds  and  atmospheric 
hues,  were  a  splended  gift ;  the  sublimity  which  they 
pour  into  our  deepest  souls  from  their  majestic  as- 
pects ;  the  poetry  which  breathes  from  their  streams, 
and  dells,  and  airy  hights,  from  the  sweet  abodes,  the 
garbs  and  manners  of  their  inhabitants,  the  songs  and 
legends  which  have  awoke  in  them,  were  a  proud 
heritage  to  imaginative  minds  ;  but  what  are  all  these 
when  the  thought  comes,  that  without  mountains  the 
spirit  of  man  must  have  bowed  to  the  brutal  and  the 
base,  and  probably  have  sunk  to  the  monotonous  level 
of  the  unvaried  plain  ? 

2.  When  T  turn  my  eyes  nnon  the  map  of  the  world. 


THE   FIFTH   RRiDEF^  281 

and  beliold  bow  woiidcrfull}^  the  countries  where  oni 
faith  was  nurtured,  where  our  liberties  were  generated, 
where  our  philosophy  and  literature,  the  fountains  ol 
our  intellectual  grace  and  beauty,  sprang  up,  were  ag 
distinctly  walled  out  by  God's  hand  with  mountain 
ramparts,  from  the  eruptions  and  interuptions  of  bar- 
barism, as  if  at  the  especial  prayer  of  the  early  fathers 
of  man's  destinies,  I  am  lost  in  an  exalting  admiration. 

3.  Look  at  the  bold  barriers  of  Palestine !  see  how 
the  infant  liberties  of  Greece  were  sheltered  frojn  the 
vast  tribes  of  the  uncivilized  north  by  the  hights  of 
Hsemus  and  Khodope  !  behold  how  the  Alps  describe 
their  magnificent  crescent,  inclining  their  opposite^ 
extremities  to  the  Adriatic  aijd  Tyrrhine  Seas,  locking 
up  Italy  from  the  GaUic  and  Teutonian  hordes  till  the 
power  and  spirit  of  Eome  had  readied  their  maturity, 
and  she  had  opened  the  wide  forest  of  Europe  to  the 
light,  spread  far  her  laws  and  language,  and  planted 
the  seeds  of  many  mighty  nations  ! 

4.  Thanks  to  God  for  mountains !  Their  colossal 
firmness  seems  almost  to  break  the  current  of  time 
itself ;  tbe  geologist  in  them  searches  for  traces  of  the 
earlier  world  ;  and  it  is  there,  too,  that  man,  resisting 
the  revolutions  of  lower  regions,  retains  through  innu- 
merable years,  his  habits  and  his  rights.  "While  a 
multitude  of  changes  have  remolded  the  people  of  Eu- 
rope ;  while  languages,  and  laws,  and  dynasties,  and 
creeds,  have  passed  over  it  like  shadows  over  the  land- 


282  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

scape,  tlie  children  of  tlie  Celt  and  tlie  Gotli,  who  had 
fled  to  the  mountains  a  thousand  years  ago,  are  found 
there  now,  and  show  us  in  face  and  figure,  in  language 
and  garb,  what  their  fathers  were  ;  show  us  a  fine  con- 
trast with  the  modern  tribes  dwelling  below  and  around 
them ;  and  show  us,  moreover,  how  adverse  is  the 
spirit  of  the  mountaiu  to  mutability,  and  that  there 
the  fiery  heart  of  freedom  is  found  for  ever. 


XLVin.— IRELAND. 

C.    E.    liESTEB. 

Ireland  still  has  an  existence  as  a  nation.  She  has 
her  universities  and  her  literature.  She  is  still  the 
"  Emerald  Isle  of  the  Ocean."  An  air  of  romance  and 
chivalry  is  around  her.  The  traditionary  tales  that 
live  in  her  literature  invest  her  history  with  heroic 
beauty.  But  she  has  no  need  of  these.  Real  heroes, 
the  O'Neils,  the  O'Briens,  and  the  Emmets,  will  be 
remembered  as  long  as  self-denying  patriotism  and 
unconquerable  valor  are  honored  among  men. 

2.  In  every  department  of  literature  she  will  take 
her  place.  Where  is  the  wreath  her  shamrock  does 
not  adorn  ?  Where  the  muse  that  has  not  visited  her 
hills?  Her  harp  has  ever  kindled  the  soul  of  the 
warrior  and  soothed  the  sorrows  of  the  broken-hearted. 
It  has  sounded  every  strain  that  can  move  the  human 
heart  to  greatness  or  to  love.     Whatever  vices  may 


THE   FIFTH   RExVDER.  283 

stain  her  people,  tliej  are  free  from  tlie  crime  of  vol- 
untary servitude.  The  Irishman  is  the  man  last  to  be 
subdued.  Possessing  an  elasticity  of  character  that 
will  rise  under  the  heaviest  oppression,  he  wants  only 
a  favorable  opportunity  and  a  single  spark  to  set  him 
in  a  blaze. 

3.  The  records  of  religious  persecutions  in  all  coun- 
tries have  nothing  more  hideous  to  offer  to  our  notice 
ihan  the  Protestant  persecutions  of  the  Irish  Catholics. 
On  them,  all  the  devices  of  cruelty  were  exhausted. 
Ingenuity  was  taxed  to  devise  new  plans  of  persecution, 
till  the  machinery  of  penal  iniquity  might  almost  be 
pronounced  perfect.  The  great  Irish  chieftains  and 
landlords  were  purposely  goaded  into  rebellion,  that 
they  might  be  branded  as  traitors  and  their  lands 
confiscated  for  the  benefit  of  English  adveuturers. 
Such  was  the  course  adopted  towards  Earl  Desmond, 
a  powerful  chief  of  Munster  ;  such  also  was  the  treat- 
ment of  O'Neil.  When  Queen  Elizabeth  heard  of  the 
revolt  of  the  latter,  she  remarked  to  her  courtiers  :  "  It 
would  be  better  for  her  servants,  as  there  would  bo 
estates  enough  for  them  all." 

4.  This  single  expression  of  Elizabeth  reveals  the  en  - 
tire  policy  of  the  EngHsh  Government  towards  Ireland. 
That  injured  country  was  the  great  repast  at  wliich 
every  monarch  bade  his  lords  sit  down  and  eat.  After 
they  had  gorged  their  fill,  the  remains  were  left  for 
those   who   came  after     Tranquillity  succeeded  these 


284  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

massacres,  but  it  was  the  tranquillity  of  the  graveyard. 
The  proud  and  patriotic  Irishmen  were  folded  in  the 
sleep  of  death,  and  the  silence  and  repose  around  their 
lifeless  corpses  were  called  peace. 

"  They  made  a  solitude, 
And  called  it  peace." 

5.  Often  a  great  chief,  possessed  of  large  estates,  was 
purposely  driven  by  the  most  flagrant  injustice  and  in- 
sults into  open  rebellion,  that  he  might  be  branded  as 
a  traitor,  and  his  rich  possessions,  by  confiscation,  re- 
vert to  the  English  vampyres  that  so  infested  the  land. 
Every  cruelty  and  outrage  that  can  dishonor  our 
nature  was  perpetrated  in  these  unjust  wars  by  English 
soldiers.  Cities  were  sacked,  villages  burned,  and  the 
helpless  and  the  young  slaughtered  by  thousands.  A 
record  of  these  scenes  of  crime  and  blood  we  cannot 
furnish.  It  is  written,  however,  on  every  foot  of  Irish 
soil,  and  in  the  still  living  memories  of  many  an  Lish 
heart. 


XLEL— THE  DESEETED  VILLAGE. 

GOLDSMITH. 

The  locality  of  this  poem  is  supposed  to  be  Lissoy,  near  Ballymahan, 
County  Longford,  Ireland,  where  the  poet's  brother  Henry  had  his 
living.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  the  place  afterwards  became  the 
fashionable  resort  of  poetical  pilgrims,  and  paid  the  customary  peualty 
of  furnishing  relics  for  the  curious.  The  hawthorn  bush  has  been  con- 
verted into  snuff-boxes,  and  now  adorns  the  cabinets  of  pootieal 
virtuosi.  The  social  and  political  truths  embodied  in  this  beautiful 
Po3m,  have  been  signally  vindicated  by  time,  and  were  never  moro 


THE  FIFTH   READEK.  285 

applicable  than  thej  are  i.o  the  luxury  and  extravagance  of  our  own 
times.  In  the  dedication  of  *'  The  Deserted  Village,"  Goldsmith  says  : 
"  In  regretting  the  depopulation  of  the  country,  I  inveigh  against  the 
increase  of  our  luxuries,  and  here  also  I  expect  the  «8hout  of  modejm 
politicians  against  me.  For  twenty  or  thirty  years  past,  it  has  been 
the  fashion  to  consider  luxury  as  one  of  the  greatest  national  advan- 
tages, and  all  the  wisdom  of  antiquity,  in  that  particular,  as  erroneous 
Still,  however,  I  must  remain  a  professed  ancient  on  that  head,  and 
continue  to  think  those  luxuries  prejudicial  to  states  by  which  so  many 
vices  are  introduced,  and  so  many  kingdoms  have  been  undone." 

1.  Sweet  Auburn  !  loveliest  village  of  the  plain,  /. 
Where  health  and  plenty  cheered  the  laboring  swain,  ;  - 
Where  smiling  spring  its  earliest  visit  paid,  1 

A.Dd  parting  summer's  lingering  blooms  delayed  : 
Dear  lovely  bowers  of  innocence  and  ease,  ^6' 

Seats  of  my  youth,  when  every  sport  could  please,  a 
How  often  have  I  loitered  o'er  thy  green,  -^ 

Where  humble  happiness  endeared  each  scene  " 

How  often  have  I  paused  on  every  charm,  / 

The  sheltered  cot,  the  cultivated  farm, .  ^d_ 

The  never-failing  brook,  the  busy  mill,  ^^ 

The  decent  church  that  topt  the  neighboring  hill,  '^ 

The  hawthorn  bush,  with  seats  beneath  the  shade,         ? 
For  talking  age  and  whispering  lovers  made ! 
How  often  have  I  blest  the  coming  day,  ^       ^<^ 

When  toil  remitting  lent  its  turn  to  play,  ^ 

And  all  the  village  train,  from  labor  free. 
Led  up  their  sports  beneath  the  spreading  tree ; 
While  many  a  pastime  circled  in  the  shade,  -/ 

The  young  contending  as  the  old  surveyed ;  ^^. 


286  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

And  many  a  gambql  frolick'd  o'er  tke  ground, 

And  sleights  of  art  and  feats  of  strength  went  round ; 

And  still  as  eSPch  repeated  pleasure  tired, 

Succeeding  sports  the  mirthful  band  inspired ; 

The  dancing  pair  that  simply  sought  renown  ..         -^"^ 

By  holding  out  to  tire  each  other  down  ; 

The  swain  mistrustless  of  his  smutted  face. 

While  secret  laughter  tittered  round  the  place ; 

The  bashful  virgin's  sidelong  looks  of  lo^e, 

The  matron's  glance  that  would  those  looks  reprove :  £d 

These   were   thy   charms,  sweet  village!    sports,  like 

these 
With  sweet  s«ccession,  taught  e'en  toil  to  please  ; 
These  round  thy  bowers  their  cheerful  influence  shed, 
These  were  thy  charms — but  all  these  charms  are  fled. 

2.  Sweet  smilmg  village,  loveliest  of  the  lawn,  ^"^ 

Thy  sports  are  fled,  and  all  thy  charms  withdrawa 
Amidst  thy  bowers  the  tyrant's  hand  is  seen, 
And  desolation  saddens  all  thy  green ; 
One  only  master  grasps  the  whole  domain, 
And  half  a  tillage  stints  thy  smiling  plain.  -  ^     -         j^^ 
No  more  the  grassy  brook  reflects  the  day. 
But,  choked  with  sedges,  works  its  weedy  way  ; 
Along  thy  glades,  a  solitary  guest. 
The  hollow-sounding  bittern  guards  its  nest ; 
Amidst  thy  desert  walks  the  lapwing  flies,  'u  ^ 

Ind  tires  their  echoes  with  unvaried  cries  : 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  287 

Sunk  are  tlij  bowers  in  shapeless  ruin  all, 
And  the  long  grass  o'ertops  the  mouldering  wall ; 
And,  tremj^ling,  shrinking  from  the  spoiler's  hand, 
Far,  far  away  thy  children  leave  the  land.  i'b 

3.  Ill  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates,  and  men  decay; 
Princes  aud  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade ; 

A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made ; 

But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride,  ^^  •^ 

When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied. 

4.  A  time  there  was,  ere  England's  griefs  began, 
When  every  rood  of  ground  maintained  its  man : 
For  him  light  Labor  spread  her  wholesome  store. 

Just  gave  what  life  required,  but  gave  no  more  ;         '  (^  ^ 

His  best  companions,  innocence  and  health. 

And  his  best  riches,  ignorance  of  wealth. 

But  times  are  altered  :  trade's  unfeeling  train 

Usurp  the  land,  and  dispossess  the  swain  ; 

Along  the  lawn,  where  scattered  hamlets  rose,  '^  ^ 

Unwieldly  wealth  and  cumbrous  pomp  repo^o, 

And  every  want  to  luxury  allied. 

And  every  pang  that  folly  pays  to  pride. 

Those  gentle  hours  that  plenty  bade  to  blovm, 

Those  calm  desires  that  asked  but  little  room,.  V^ 

Those  healthful  sports  that  graced  the  peacefil  scene, 

Lij^d  in  each  look,  and  brightened  all  the  g^een, — 

These,  far  departing,  seek  a  kinder  shore, 

And  rural  mirth  and  manners  are  no  more. 


2k.j  the  fifth  readeb. 

5.  Sweet  AuDurn  !  parent  of  fclie  blissful  hour,         ^<^ 
Thy  glades  forlorn  confess  the  tyrant's  power. 
Here-  9.S  I  take  my  solitary  rounds,  « 

Amidst  thy  tanghng  walks  and  ruined  grounds, 
And,  many  a  year  elapsed,  return  to  view 
Where  once  the  cottage  stood,  the  hawthorn  grew,     fC 
Remembrance  wakes  with  all  her  busy  train,    , 
Swells  at  my  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to  pain. 

G.  In  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world  of  care. 
In  all  my  griefs — and  God  has  given  my  share— 
1  still  had  hopes,  my  latest  hours  to  crown,  f6' 

Amidst  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down ; 
To  husband  out  life's  taper  at  the  close. 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting  by  repose : 
I  still  had  hopes — for  pride  attends  us  stiU — 
Amidst  the  swains  to  show  my  book-learned  skill,      f^ 
Around  my  fire  an  evening  group  to  draw, 
And  tell  of  all  I  felt  and  all  I  saw  ; 
And  as  a  hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue, 
Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flew. 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  t^^exations  past,  ,  f  if 

Here  to  return  and  die  at  home  at  last. 

7.  0  blest  retirement,  friend  to  life's  decline. 
Retreat  from  cares,  that  never  must  be  mine ! 
Bow  blest  is  he  who  crowns  in  shades  like-  these, 
A.  youth  of  labor  with  ao  age  of  ease ; .  ^i^^  ^ 

Who  quits  a  world  where  strong  temptations  try, 
And,  since  'tis  hard  to  combat,  learns  to  fly  I. 


THE  FIFl'H   READER,  289 

For  him  no  wretches,  born  to  work  and  weep, 

Explore  the  mine,  or  tempt  the  dangerous  deep. 

No  surly  porter  stands  in  guilty  state,  /(r6' 

To  spurn  imploring  famine  from  the  gate ; 

But  on  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end, 

Angels  around  befriending  virtue's  friend ; 

Sinks  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  decay, 

"Wliile  resignation  gently  slopes  the  way^  I  f  ^ 

And,  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the  last, 

His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  be  past. 

8.  Sweet  was  the  sound,  when  oft  at  evening's  close, 
Up  yonder  hill  the  village  murmur  rose ; 
There,  as  1  past  with  careless  steps  and  slow,  / /^ 

The  evening  notes  came  softened  from  below  ; 
The  swain  responsive  as  the  milk-maid  sung, 
The  sober  herd  that  lowed  to  meet  their  young  ; 
The  noisy  geese  that  gabbled  o'er  the  pool. 
The  playful  children  just  let  loose  from  school ;        ^  ^ 
The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bayed  the  whispering  wind. 
And  the  loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind — 
These  all  in  sweet  confusion  sought  the  shade, 
And  filled  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made. 
But  now  the  sounds  of  population  fail ;  /Jy6' 

No  cheerful  murmurs  fluctuate  in  the  gale, 
No  busy  steps  the  grass-grown  footway  tread. 
But  all  the  blooming  flush  of  life  is  fled ; 
All  but  yon  widow'd,  solitary  thing. 
That  feebly  bends  beside  the  plashy  spring;  / 3 1} 


290  THE   FIFTH   EE.VDER. 

She,  wretclied  matron,  forced  in  age,  for  bread, 

To  strip  tlie  brook  with  mantling  cresses  spread. 

To  pick  her  wintry  fagot  from  the  thorn. 

To  seek  her  nightly  shed,  and  weep  till  morn  ; 

She  only  left  of  all  the  harmless  train,  /S^ 

The  sad  historian  of  the  pensive  plain. 


L.— THE  DESERTED  VILLA.GE.—CONTINTJBD. 

1.  Near  yonder  copse,  where  once  ^e  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden-flower  grows  wild, 
There,  where  a  few  torn  shrubs  the  place  disclose. 
The  village  preacher's  modest  mansion  rose.         -  _/  -^d 
A  man  he  was  to  all  the  country  dear, 
And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a-year  : 
Kemote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race, 
Nor  e'er  had  changed,  nor  wished    to  change,  hift 

place ; 
Unskillful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power,  /  V^' 

By  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour;. 
Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  learned  to  prize, 
More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise. 
His  house  was  known  to  all  tlie  vagrant  train. 
He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain ;  /^'fj 
The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 
"Whose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged  breast ; 
The  ruined  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud. 
Claimed  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allowed  ; 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  291 

The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay,  '      /^^ 

Sat  by  bis  fire,  and  talked  the  night  away, 
Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or,  tales  of  sorrow  done, 
Shouldered  his  crutoh.  and  showed  how  fields  "were 

won. 
Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to  glow,  /[p  0 
And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe  : 
Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began; 

'  2.  Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 
And  even  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's. side  ;   ^     ^  -    "/!>6' 
But  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call, 
He  watched  and  wept,  he  prayed  and  felt,  for  all ; 
And,  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 

He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, //^ 

Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way. 

3.  Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was  laid, 
And  sorrow,  guilt,  and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed. 
The  reverend  champion  stood.     At  his  control. 
Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul  ;• .  _ .  -  -  yy6' 
Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise, 

And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise* 

4.  At  church,  with  meek  and  unaffected  grace. 
His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place  ;      .     . 

Truth  from  his  Hps  prevailed  with  double  sway, .  _/  /^ 
A.nd  fools  who  came  to  scoff,  remained  to  pray. 


292  THE   FIFTH   REA.DER. 

The  service  past,  around  the  pious  m£fti, 

With  ready  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 

E'en  children  followed,  with  endearing  wile, 

And  plucked  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man's  smile,  /  ^-^ 

His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  expressed  ;  • 

Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  cares  distressed ; 

To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs,  were  given, 

But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 

As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, /ft 

Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm,  * 
Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 


LL-THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE.— Continued. 

1.  Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way. 
With  blossomed  furze,  unprofitably  gay,  -    -      -       /f  ^' 
There  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skilled  to  rule. 
The  vUlage  master  taught  his  little  school. 
A  man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view  ; 
T  knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew  ; 
Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learned  to  trace       J^OO 
The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face  ; 
Full  well  they  laughed,  with  counterfeited  glee^ 
At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he ; 
Full  well  the  busy  whisper,  circling  round, 
Conveyed  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frowned  :       Ji&  b' 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  293 

2.  Yet  he  was  kind,  or,  if  severe  in  auglit,  I 
Ihe  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault.    J 
The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew, 
'Twas  certain  he  could  write  and  cipher  too  ; 

Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage,      -^^  ^ 

And  e'en  the  storj  ran — that  he  could  guage  : 

In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  owned  his  skill, 

For  e'en  though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still ; 

"While  words  of  learned  length  and  thund'ring  sounds  ■ 

Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around;  -^/^ 

And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew, 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew. 

But  past  is  all  his  fame.     The  very  spot 

Where  many  a  time  he  triumphed,  is  forgot. 

3.  Near  yonder  thorn,  that  lifts  its  head  on  high,      JL/^" 
Where  on<;e  the  sign-post  caught  the  passing  eye. 

Low  lies  that  house  where  nut-brown   draughts   in- 

spirecT 
Where  graybeard  mirth,  and  smiling  toil,  retired, 
Where  village  statesmen  talked  with  looks  profound. 
And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  went  round.  -2.«2  ^> 

Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace 
The  parlor  splendors  of  that  festive  place  : 
The  white-washed  wall,  the  nicely-sanded  floor, 
The  varnished  clock  tliat  clicked  behind  the  door ; 
The  chest,  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay,  '^^  ^ 

A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  draws  by  day  ; 


294  THE   FIFTH    READEB. 

The  pictures  placed  for  ornament  and  use, 
Tlie  twelve  good  rules,  the  royal  game  of  goose  ; 
The  hearth,  except  when  winter  chilled  the  day, 
With  aspen  boughs,  and  flowers,  and  fennel  gay.    ^30 
While  broken  tea  cups,  wisely  kept  for  show, 
Ranged  o'er  the  chimney,  glistened  in  a  row. 

4.  Vain,  transitory  splendors  !     Could  not  all 
Keprieve  the  tottering  mansion  from  its  fall  ? 

Obscure  it  sinks,  nor  shall  it  more  impart   ,  ,  ^  .  -^  ;J  d  ' 

An  hour's  importance  to  the  poor  man's  heart : 

Thither  no  more  the  peasant  shall  repair, 

To  sweet  oblivion  of  his  daily  care  ; 

Ko  more  the  farmer's  news,  the  barber's  tale, 

No  more  the  woodman's  ballad  shall  prevail ;  -    -  -  ^¥f> 

No  more  the  smith  his  dusky  brow  shall  clear, 

Kelax  his  ponderous  strength,  and  learn  to  hear ; 

The  host  himself  no  longer  shall  be  found 

Careful  to  see  the  mantling  bliss  go  round ; 

Nor  the  coy  maid,  half  willing  to  be  prest,        .  ^  -U¥  ^' 

Shall  kiss  the  cup  to  pass  it  to  the  rest. 

5.  Yes  !  let  the  rich  deride,  the  proud  disdain, 
These  simple  blessings  of  the  lowly  train ; 

To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart, 

One  native  charm,  than  all  the  gloss  of  art.  ~  ^  -  ^  j^  SD 

Spontaneous  joys,  where  nature  has  its  play. 

The  soul  adopts,  and  owns  their  first-bom  sway  ; 

Lightly  they  frolic  o'er  the  vacant  mind, 

Unenvied,  unmolested,  unconfined  :• 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  295 

but  the  long  pomp,  the  midnight  masquerade,^  .26'^' 

With  all  the  freaks  of  wanton  wealth  arrayed, — 

In  these,  ere  triflers  half  their  wish  obtain, 

The  toiling  pleasure  sickens  into  pain  ; 

And,  e'en  while  fashion's  brightest  arts  decoy. 

The  heart,  distrusting,  asks  if  this  be  joy?   -  — ^ctj:> 

6.  Ye  friends  to  truth,  ye  statesmen,  who  survey 
The  rich  man's  joys  increase,  the  poor's  decay, 
*T  is  yours  to  judge  how  wide  the  limits  stand 
Between  a  splendid  and  a  happy  land. 
Proud  swells  the  tide  with  loads  of  freighted  ore,        ^^6' 
And  shouting  Folly  hails  them  from  her  shore ; 
Hoards,  even  beyond  the  miser's  wish,  abound. 
And  rich  men  flock  from  all  the  world  around. 
Yet  count  our  gains  :  this  wealth  is  but  a  name 
That  leaves  our  useful  products  still  the  same.  -  -.^/^ 
Not  so  the  loss  :  the  man  of  wealth  and  pride 
Takes  up  a  space  that  many  poor  supplied  ; 
Space  for  his  lake,  his  park's  extended  bounds. 
Space  for  his  horses,  equipage,  and  hounds. 
The  robe  that  wraps  his  limbs  in  silken  sloth,  r  -  '^  /^^ 
lias  robbed  the  neighboring  fields  of  half  their  growth 
His  seat  where  solitary  sports  are  seen, 
Indignant  spurns  the  cotfage  from  the  green ; 
Around  the  world  each  needful  product  flies 

For  all  the  luxuries  the  world  supplies  :  ^ z  f^ 

While  thus  the  land,  adorned  for  pleasure  all, 
£n  barren  splendor  feebly  waits  the  fall.  , 


296  THE  FIFTH   EEADER. 

7.  As  some  fair  female,  unadorned  and  plain, 
Secure  to  please  while  youth  confirms  her  reign, 
Slights  every  borrowed  charm  that  dress  supplies,    '^  ^^ 
Nor  shares  with  art  the  triumph  of  her  eyes  \ 
But  when  those  charms  are   past— for  charms    ^e 

frail — 
When  time  advances,  and  when  lovers  fail, 
She  then  shines  forth,  solicitous  to  bless. 

In  all  the  glaring  impotence  of  dress :    • . *^^^ 

Thus  fares  the  land,  by  luxury  betrayed ; 

In  nature's  simplest  charms  at  first  arrayed: 

But  verging  to  decline,  its  splendors  rise, 

Its  yistas  strike,  its  palaces  surprise  ; 

While,  scourged  by  famine  from  the  smiling  land,      °2/d' 

The  mournful  peasant  leads  his  humble  band; 

And  while  he  sinks,  without  one  arm  to  save. 

The  country  blooms — a  garden  and  a  grave. 


Ln.— THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE.— Concluded. 

1.  Where,  then,  ah !  where  shall  poverty  reside, 
To  escape  the  pressure  of  contiguous  pride  ? 

If  to  some  common's  fenceless  limits  strayed,  5f€. 

He  drives  his  flock  to  pick  the  scanty  blade. 
Those  fenceless  fields  the  sons  of  wealth  divide. 
And  even  the  bare-worn  common  is  denied. 

2.  If  to  the  city  sped,  what  waits  him  there  ? 

To  see  profusion  that  he  must  not  share  ;  J d  6' 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  297  . 

To  see  ten  thousand  baneful  arts  combined 

To  pamper  luxury,  and  tliin  mankind  ; 

To  see  each  joy  the  sons  of  pleasure  know 

Extorted  from  his  fellow-creatures'  wo. 

Here  while  the  courtier  glitters  in  brocade,  .       _         ^/er 

There  the  pale  artist  plies  his  sickly  trade ; 

Here  while  the  proud  their  long-drawn  pomps  display. 

There  the  black  gibbet  glooms  beside  the  way. 

The  dome  where  Pleasure  holds  her  midnight  reign. 

Here,  richly  decked,  admits  the  gorgeous  train  ;-  £/i 

Tumultuous  grandeur  crowds  the  blazing  square, 

The  rattling  chariots  clash,  the  torches  glare. 

Sure  scenes  like  these  no  troubles  e'er  annoy  ! 

Sure  these  denote  one  universal  joy ! 

Are  these  thy  serious  thoughts? — Ah,  turn  thine  eyes  ^3^0 

Where  the  poor  houseless  shivering  female  lies  : 

She  once,  perhaps,  in  village  plenty  blest, 

Has  wept  at  tales  of  innocence  distrest : 

*  *  *  * 

3.  Do  thine,  sweet  Auburn,  thine,  the  loveliest  train 

Do  thy  tair  tribes  participate  her  pain  ?  3^  6'~ 

E'en  now,  perhaps,  by  cold  and  hunger  led, 

At  proud  men's  doors  they  ask  a  little  bread  ! 
i  Ah,  no.     To  distant  climes,  a  dreary  scene, 
I  Where  half  the  convex-world  intrudes  between. 

Through  torrid  tracts  with  fainting  steps  they  go,  ^^_^ -8 d 

Where  wild  Altama  *  murmurs  to  their  wo. 
•  The  Altama  (or  Altamaha)  is  a  river  in  the  state  of  Georgia. 


298  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

Far  different  there  from  all  that  charmed  before, 

The  various  terrors  of  that  horrid  shore  ; 

Those  blazing  suns  that  dart  a  downward  ray, 

And  fiercely  shed  intolerable  day ;  ^  ^ 

Those  matted  woods  where  birds  forget  to  sing, 

But  silent  bats  in  drowsy  clusters  cling  ; 

Those  poisonous  fields  with  rank  luxuriance  crowned, 

Where  the  dark  scorpion  gathers  death  around ; 

Where  at  each  step  the  stranger  fears  to  wake -    S*/ 

The  rattling  terrors  of  the  vengeful  snake  ; 

Where  crouching  tigers  wait  their  hapless  prey, 

And  savage  men,  more  murderous  still  than  they ; 

While  oft  in  whirls  the  mad  tornado  flies, 

Mingling  the  ravaged  landscape  with  the  skies.  .  _  1     S^ 

Far  different  these  from  every  former  scerie, 

The  coohng  brook,  the  grassy-vested  green. 

The  breezy  covert  of  the  warbling  grove, 

That  only  sheltered  thefts  of  harmless  love. 

4.  Good  Heaven !  what  sorrows  gloomed  that  part- 
ing day  ^  ^ 
That  called  them  from  their  native  walks  away ; 
When  the  poor  exiles,  every  pleasure  past, 
Hung  round  the  bowers,  and  fondly  looked  their  last, 
And  took  a  long  farewell,  and  wished  in  vam 
For  seats  like  these  beyond  the  western  main  \^  ^  .  3  6^6 
And  shuddenng  still  to  face  the  distant  deep. 
Returned  and  wept,  and  still  returned  to  weep  I 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  299 

Tlie  good  old  sire  the  first  prepared  to  go 

To  new-found  worlds,  and  wept  for  others'  wo  ; 

But  for  himself,  in  conscious  virtue  brave,  -  . ^kxi 

Hl  only  wished  for  worlds  beyond  the  grave  : 

Ilis  lovely  daughter,  lovelier  in  her  tears. 

The  fond  companion  of  his  helpless  years, 

Silent  went  next,  neglectful  of  her  charms. 

And  left  a  lover's  for  her  father's  arms  :  ^^ 

With  louder  plaints  the  mother  spoke  her  woos. 

And  blest  the  cot  where  every  pleasure  rose, 

And  kissed  her  thoughtless  babes  with  many  a  tear 

And  clasped  them  close,  in  sorrow  doubly  dear, 

Whilst  her  fond  husband  strove  to  lend  relief SJt 

In  all  the  silent  manliness  of  grief. 

5.  O  luxury  !  thou  curst  by  Heaven's  decree, 
How  ill  exchanged  are  things  like  these  for  thee ! 
How  do  thy  potions,  with  insidious  joy. 

Diffuse  their  pleasures  only  to  destroy  !  -    -    -      -  ^^/^ 

Kingdoms  by  thee,  to  sickly  greatness  grown, 

Boast  of  a  florid  vigor  not  their  own  i 

At  every  draught  more  large  and  large  they  grow, 

A  bloated  mass  of  rank  unwieldy  wo  ; 

Till,  sapped  their  strength,  and  every  part  unsoundr-^  ^ 

Down,  down  they  sink,  and  spread  a  ruin  round. 

6.  E'en  now  the  devastation  is  begun, 
And  half  the  business  of  destruction  done  ; 
E'en  now,  metliinks,  as  pondering  here  I  stand, 

I  see  the  inral  Yu-tnes  leave  the  land,  SY^" 


300  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Down  where  yon  anchoring  vessel  spreads  the  sail 

xhat  idly  waiting  flaps  with  every  gale, 
,  Downward  they  move  a  melancholy  band, 
"Pass  from  the  shore  and  darken  all  the  strand. 

Contented  Toil,  and  hospitable  Care,  - ,  <S  f^ 

And  kind  connubial  Tenderness,  are  there ; 

And  Piety  with  wishes  placed  above, 

And  steady  Loyalty,  and  faithful  Love. 

And  thou,  sweet  Poetry,  thou  loveliest'  maid. 

Still  first  to  fly  where  sensual  joys  invade  ;  . ^  f^ 

Unfit,  in  these  degenerate  times  of  shame, 

To  catch  the  heart,  or  strike  for  honest  fame ; 

Dear  charming  nymph,  neglected  and  decried, 

My  shame  in  crowds,  my  solitary  pride  ; 

Thou  source  of  all  my  bliss,  (ind  all  my  woe,  -  -     -^^ 

That  foundest  me  poor  at  first,  and  keepest  me  so ; 

Thou  guide,  by  which  the  nobler  arts  excel, 
'  Thou  nurse  of  every  virtue,  fare  thee  well ! 

Farewell ;  and  oh  !  where'er  thy  voice  be  tried, 

On  Torno's  cliffs,  or  Pambamarca's  side,  ^C6^ 

Whether  where  equinoctial  fervors  glow. 

Or  winter  wraps  the  polar  world  in  snow, 

Still  let  tW  voice,  prevailing  over  time, 

Bedress  t(ie  rigors  of  the  inclement  chme ; 

Aid  slighfed  truth  with  thy  persuasive  strain  ;         /V' 

Teach  erring  man  to  spurn  the  rage  of  gam  ; 
|Teach  him,  that  states  of  native  strength  possest, 
|Thoug)i  yery  poor,  may  sjtiU  be  yery  blest. ; 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  30] 

That  trade's  proud  empire  hastes  to  swift  decay, 

As  ocean  sweeps  the  labored  raole  away  ;.  -    "^^  ^ 

While  seK-dependent  power  can  time  defy, 

As  rocks  resist  the  billows  and  the  sky.  ^^7, 


Lm.— THE  TAKING  OF  BABYLON  BY  CYRUS. 


HEKODOTUS. 


1.  Assyria  possesses  a  vast  number  of  great  cities, 
whereof  the  most  renowned  and  the  strongest  at  this 
time*  was  Babylon,  whither,  after  the  fall  of  Nineveh, 
the  seat  of  government  had  been  removed.  The 
following  is  a  description  of  the  place : — The  city 
stands  on  a  broad  plain,  and  is  an  exact  square,  a 
hundred  and  twenty  furlongs  in  length  each  way,  so 
that  the  entire  circuit  is  four  hundred  and  eighty 
furlongs.  While  such  is  its  size,  in  magnificence  there 
is  no  other  city  that  approaches  it.  It  is  surrounded, 
in  the  first  place,  by  a  broad  and  deep  moat,  full  of 
water,  behind  which  rises  a  wall  fifty  royal  cubits  Id 
width,  and  two  hundred  in  heigh t.f 

*  During  the  time  of  the  conquests  of  Cyrus  the  Great, — iu  tUa 
latter  part  of  the  sixth  centurj',  b.  c. 

t  There  is  some  doubt  as  to  the  precise  length  of  the  royal,  as  well 
as  the  common,  cubit.  According  to  the  most  reliable  estimate,  tlie 
former  was  about  one  foot  ten  and  one-half  inches  ;  and,  consequently, 
the  walls  of  Babylon  must  have  been  about  (three  hundred  ar,d 
seventy-five  feet  high,  and  nearly  ninety-four  feet  in  width.  This 
appears  *hke  a  very  great  exaggeration  on  the  part  of  Herodotus, 
especially  as  other  ancient  writers  give  the  dimensions  as  only  one- 
xb'iith  tus  great.     If  we  substitute  hands  for  cubits,  the  statement  will 


002  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

2.  And  here  I  may  not.  omit  to  tell  tlie  use  to  which 
the  mold  dug  out  of  the  great  moat  was  turned,  nor 
the  manner  wherein  the  wall  was  wrought.  As  fast  as 
they  dug  the  moat,  the  soil  which  they  got  from  the 
cutting  was  made  into  bricks  ;  and  when  a  sufficient 
number  was  completed,  they  baked  the  bricks  in  kilns. 
Then  they  set  to  building,  and  began  with  bricking  the 
borders  of  the  moat,  after  which  they  proceeded  to 
construct  the  wall  itself,  using  throughout  for  their 
cement  hot  bitumen,  and  interposing  a  layer  of  wattled 
reeds  at  every  thirtieth  course  of  the  bricks.  On  the 
top,  along  the  edges  of  the  wall,  they  constructed 
buildings  of  a  single  chamber  facing  one  another, 
leaving  between  them  room  for  a  four-horse  chariot  to 
turn.  In  the  circuit  of  the  wall  are  a  hundred  gates, 
all  of  brass,  with  brazen  lintels  and  side-posts.  The 
bitumen  used  in  the  work  was  brought  to  Babylon 
from  the  Is,  a  small  stream  which  flows  into  the 
Euphrates,  at  the  point  where  the  city  of  the  same 
name  stands,  eight  days'  journey  from  Babylon. 
Lumps  of  bitumen  are  found  in  great  abundance  in 
this  river. 

3.  The  city  is  divided  into  two  portions  by  the  river 
which  runs  through  the  midst  of  it.  This  river  is  the 
Euphrates,  a  broad,  deep,  swift  stream,  which  rises  in 
Armenia,  and  empties  itself  into  the  Erythraean  Sea. 

be  plausible  ;  aud  this,  probably,  is  what  Ileroclotiis  meaiil,  since  it 
has  been  found  that  in  his  description  of  ol)jects  which  he  had  seen  he 
was  studiously  accuiute 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  303 

The  city  wall  is  brought  down  on  both  sides  to  the 
edge  of  the  stream ;  thence  from  the  corners  of  the 
wall  there  is  carried  along  each  bank  of  the  river  a 
fence  of  burnt  bricks.  The  houses  are  mostly  three 
and  four  stories  high  ;  the  streets  all  run  in  straight 
lines,  not  only  those  parallel  to  the  river,  but  also  the 
cross-streets  which  lead  down  to  the  water  side.  At 
the  river  end  of  these  cross-streets  are  low  gates  in  the 
fence  .that  skirts  the  stream,  which  are,  like  the  great 
gates  in  the  outer  wall,  of  brass,  and  open  on  the 
water. 

4  The  outer  wall  is  the  main  defense  of  the  city. 
There  is,  however,  a  second  inner  wall,  of  less  thick- 
ness than  the  first,  but  very  little  inferior  to  it  iu 
strength.  The  center  of  each  division  of  the  town 
was  occupied  by  a  fortress.  In  the  one  stood  the 
palace  of  the  kings,  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  great 
strength  and  size ;  in  the  other  was  the  sacred  pre- 
cinct of  Jupiter  Belus,  a  square  inclosure,  two  furlongs 
each  way,  with  gates  of  solid  brass,  which  was  also 
remaining  in  my  time.  In  the  middle  of  the  precinct 
there  was  a  tower  of  solid  masonry,  a  furlong  in  length 
and  breadth,  upon  which  was  raised  a  second  tower, 
and  on  that  a  third,  and  so  on  up  to  eight. 

5.  The  ascent  to  the  top  is  on  the  outside,  by  a  path 
which  winds  round  all  the  towers.  When  one  is  about 
half-way  up,  one  finds  a  resting  place  and  seats,  whore 
persons  are  wont  to  sit  sometimes  on  their  way  to  tlie 


MO 4  THE   FIFTH   HEADER. 

summit.  On  tlie  topmost  tower  there  is  a  spacioiig 
temple,  and  inside  the  temple  stands  a  couch  of  unusual 
size,  richly  adorned,  with  a  golden  table  by  its  side. 
There  is  no  statue  of  any  kind  set  up  in  the  place,  nor 
is  the  chamber  occupied  of  nights  by  any  one  save  a 
single  native  woman,  who  as  the  Chaldeans,"^  the  priests 
of  this  god,  affirm,  is  chosen  for  himself  by  the  Deity 
out  of  all  the  women  of  the  land 

6.  Below,  in  the  same  precinct,  there  is  a  second  tem- 
ple, in  which  is  a  sitting  figure  of  Jupiter,  all  of  gold. 
Before  the  figure  stands  a  largo  golden  table,  and  the 
throne  whereon  it  sits,  and  the  base  on  which  the 
throne  is  placed,  are  likewise  of  gold.  The  Chaldeans 
told  me  that  all  the  gold  together  was  eight  hundred 
talents'  weight.t  Outside  the  temples  are  two  solid 
altars,  one  of  solid  gold,  on  which  it  is  only  law:ful  to 
offer  sucklings ;  the  other,  a  common  altar,  but  of  great 
size,  on  which  ^he  full-grown  animals  are  sacrificed. 
It  is  also  on  the  great  altar  that  the  Chaldeans  burn 
the  frankincence,  which  is  offered  to  the  amount  of  a 
thousand  talents'  weight,  every  year,  at  the  festival  of 
the  god. 

7.  In  the  time  of  Cyrus  there  was  likewise  in  thi:^ 

*  The  Chaldeans  were  a  brauch  of  the  race  which  inhaDlted  Babylo- 
nia from  the  e  irhest  times.  With  this  race  originated  the  art  of  \\  rit- 
ing,  the  building  of  cities,  the  institution  of  religious  systems,  and  tlia 
cultivation  of  science,  particularly  astronomy. 

+  The  smaller  talent,  used  in  weighiug  gold,  was'a  little  more  than 
three-quarters  of  an  ounce.  Hence  there  must  have  been  more  thai) 
six  hundredweight  of  gtdd  used  in  these  articles. 


THE   FIFTH   EEADES  o05 

temple  the  figure  of  a  mau,  twelve  cubits  liigb,  entirely 
of  solid  gold.  I  myself  did  not  see  tliis  figure,  but  I 
relate  what  the  Chaldeans  report  concerning  it.  Da- 
rius, the  son  of  Hystaspes,  plotted  to  carry  the  statue 
off,  but  had  not  the  hardihood  to  lay  his  hands  upon 
it.  Xerxes,  however,  the  son  of  Darius,  killed  the 
priest  who  forbade  him  to  move  the  statue,  and  took  it 
away.  Besides  the  ornaments  which  I  have  mentioned 
there  are  a  large  number  of  private  offerings  in  this 
lioly  precinct. 

LIV.— THE  TAKING    OF    BABYLON    BY    CYEUS.— Continued. 

1.  Many  sovereigns  have  ruled  over  this  city  of  Ba- 
bylon and  lent  their  aid  to  the  building  of  its  walls 
and  the  adornment  of  its  temples,  of  whom  I  shall  make 
mention  in  my  A.ssyrian  history.  Among  them  were 
two  women.  Of  these  the  earlier,  called  Semiramis, 
held  the  throne  five  gene^tions  before  *fhe  later  prin- 
cess. She  raised  certain  embankments  well  worthy  of 
inspection,  in  the  plain  near  Babylon,  to  control  the 
river,  which  till  then  used  to  overflow  and  flood  the 
whole  country  round  about. 

2.  The  later  of  the  two  queens,  whose  name  was 
Nitocris,  a  wiser  princess  than  her  predecessor,  not 
only  left  behind  her,  as  memorials  of  her  occupancy  of 
the  throne,  the  worj^s  which  I  shall  presently  describe, 
but  also,  observing  the  great  power  and  restless  enter- 
prise of  the  Medes,  who  had  taken  so  large  a  number 


306  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

of  cities,  and  among  them  Nineveli,*  and  expecting  to 
be  attacked  in  her  turn,  made  all  possible  exertions  to 
mcrease  the  defenses  of  her  empire.  And  first,  where- 
as the  river  Euphrates,  which  traverses  the  city,  ran 
formerly  with  a  straight  course  to  Babylon,  she,  by 
certain  excavations,  which  she  made  at  some  distance 
up  the  stream,  rendered  it  so  winding  that  it  comes 
three  several  times  in  sight  of  the  same  village,  a 
village  in  Assyria,  which  is  called  Ardericca ;  and  to 
this  day,  they  who  would  go  from^  over  sea  to  Babylon, 
on  descending  the  river  touch  three  times,  and  on  three 
different  days,  at  this  very  place. 

3.  She  also  made  an  embankment  along  each  side 
of  the  Euphrates,  wonderful  both  for  breadth  and 
height,  and  dug  a  basin  for  a  lake  a  great  way  above 
Babylon,  close  alongside  of  the  stream,  which  was 
sunk  everywhere  to  the  point  where  they  came  to 
water,  and  wSfe  of  such  breadth  that  the  whole  circuit 
measured  four  hundred  and  twenty  furlongs.  The  soil 
dug  out  of  this  basin  was  made  use  of  in  the  embank- 
ments along  the  water-side.  When  the  excavation  was 
finished  she  had  stones  brought,  and  bordered  with 
them  the  entire  margin  of  the  reservoir.  These  two 
things  were  done,  the  river  made  to  wind,  and  the  lake 
excavated,  that  the  stream  might  be  slacker  by  reason 

*  Nineveli,  situated  on  the  Tigris  Kiver,  was  at  one  time  perhcapa 
the  most  spleuded  city  in  the  world.  It  was  taken  and  destroyed  by 
the  Medes  under  their  king,  Cyax'ares  (606  b.c).  In  the  time  ol 
llorodotus,  therefore,  it  had  ceased  to  exist. 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  307 

of  the  number  of  curves,  and  the  voyage  be  rendered 
cu-cuitous ;  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  voyage  it  might 
be  necessary  to  skirt  the  lake  and  so  make  a  long 
round.  All  these  works  were  on  that  side  of  Babylon 
where  the  passes  lay,  and  the  roads  into  Media  were 
the  straitest ;  and  the  aim  of  the  queen  in  making 
them  was  to  prevent  the  Medes  from  holding  inter- 
course with  the  Babylonians,  and  so  to  keep  them  in 
ignorance  of  her  affairs 

4.  The  expedition  of  Cyrus  was  undertaken  against 
the  son  of  tliis  princess,  who  bore  the  same  name  as 
her  father  Labynetus,  and  was  King  of  the  Assyriansi. 
The  Great  King  when  he  goes  to  the  wars,  is  always 
supplied  with  provisions  carefully  prepared  at  home, 
and  with  cattle  of  his  own.  Water  too  from  the  river 
(ko-as'pees),  which  flows  by  Susa,  is  taken  with  him  for 
his  drink,  as  that  is  the  only  water  which  the  kings  of 
Persia  taste.  Wherever  he  travels  he  is  attended  by  a 
number  of  four-wheeled  cars  drawn  by  mules,  in  which 
the  Choaspes  water,  ready  boiled  for  use,  and  stored  in 
flagons  of  silver,  is  moved  with  him  from  place  to 
place. 

5.  Cyrus,  on  his  way  to  Babylon  came  to  the  banks 
of  the  Gyndes  (jin-deezf),  a  stream  which,  rising  in  fclie 
Matienian  (ma-she-efne-an)  Mountains,  runs  through 
the  country  of  the  Dardanians,  and  empties  itself  into 
the  river  Tigris.  The  Tigris,  after  receiving  the 
Gyndes,  flows  on  by  the  city  of  Opis,  and   discharges 


808  THE  FIFTH    READER, 

its  waters  into  the  Erjthsean  Sea.  When  Cjrua 
reached  this  stream,  which  could  only  be  passed  iu 
boats,  one  of  the  sacred  white  horses  accompanying 
his  march,  full  of  spirit  and  high  mettle,  walked  into 
the  water  and  tried  to  cross  by  himself;  but  the 
current  seized  him,  swept  him '  along  with  it,  and 
drowned  him  in  its  depths.- 

6.  Cyrus  enraged  at  the  insolence  of  the  river, 
threatened  so  to  break  its  strength  that  in  future  even 
women  should  cross  it  easily  without  wetting  their 
knees.  Accordingly  he  put  off  for  a  time  his  attack  on 
jBabylon,  and  dividing  his  army  into  two  parts,  he 
marked  out  by  ropes  one  hundred  and  eighty  trenches 
on  each  side  of  the  Gyndes,  leading  off  from  it  in  all 
directions,  and  setting  his  army  to  dig,  some  on  one 
side  of  the  river,  some  on  the  other,  he  accomplished 
his  threat  by  the  aid  of  so  great  a  number  of  hands, 
but  not  without  losing  thereby  the  whole  summer 
season. 

7.  Having,  however,  thus  wreaked  his  vengeance 
on  the  Gyndes,  by  dispersing  it  through  three  hundred 
and  sixty  channels,  Cyrus,  with  the  first  approach  of 
the  ensuing  spring,  marched  forward  against  Baby- 
lon. The  Babylonians,  encamped  without  their  walls, 
awaited  his  coming.  A  battle  was  fought  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  city,  in  which  the  Babylonians  we^re 
defeated  by  the  Persian  king;  whereupon  they  with- 
drew within  their  defenses.    Here  they  shut  themselves 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  309 

up,  and  made  light  of  his  siege,  having  laid  in  a  stcre 
of  provisions  for  many  years  in  preparation  against 
this  attack ;  for  when  they  saw  Cyrus  conquering 
nation  after  nation,  they  were  convinced  that  he 
would  never  stop,  and  that  their  time  would  come  at 
last. 

8.  Cyrus  was  now  reduced  to  great  perplexity,  as 
time  went  on,  and  he  made  no  progress  against  the 
place.  In  this  distress  either  some  one  made  the 
suggestion  to  him,  or  he  bethought  himself  of  a  plan 
which  he  proceeded  to  put  in  execution,  He  placed  a 
portion  of  his  army  at  the  point  where  the  river  enters 
the  city,  and  another  body  at  the  back  of  the  place 
where  it  issues  forth,  with  orders  to  march  into  the 
town  by  the  bed  of  the  stream,  as  soon  as  the  waters 
became  shallow  enough.  He  then  himself  drew  off 
with  the  unwarlike  portion  of  his  host,  and  made  for 
the  place  where  Nitocris  dug  the  basin  for  the  river, 
where  he  did  exactly  what  she  had  done  formerly  ;  he 
turned  the  Euphrates  by  a  canal  into  a  basin,  which 
was  then  a  marsh,  on  which  the  river  sank  to  such  an 
extent  that  the  natural  bed  of  the  stream  became 
fordable. 

9.  Hereupon  the  Persians,  who  had  been  left  for 
the  purpose  at  Babylon  by  the  river-side,  entered  the 
stream,  which  had  now  sunk  so  as  to  reach  about  mid- 
way up  a  man's  thigh,  and  thus  got  into  tho  town. 
Had  the  Babylonians  been  apprised  of  what  Cyrus 


310  THE  FIFPH   READER. 

was  about,  or  had   thej  noticed  their   danger,  thej 

would  not  have  allowed  the  entrance  of  the  Persians 

within  the  city,  which  was  what  ruined  them  utterly  ; 

but  would  have  made  fast  all  the  street-gates  which 

gave  upon  the  river,  a  ad  mounting  upon  the   walls 

along  both  sides  of  the  stream,  would  so  have  caught 

the  enemy  as  it  were  in  a  trap.     But,  as  it  was,  the 

Persians  came  upon  them  by  sui-prise,   and  so  took 

the  city.     Owing  to  the  vast  size  of  the  place,  the 

inhabitants  of  the  central  part  (as  the  residents  at 

Babylon  declare),  long  after  the  outer  portions  of  the 

town  were  taken,  knew  nothing  of  what  had  chanced  ; 

but   as   they  were   engaged  in   a   festival,  continued 

dancing  and  reveHng  until  they  learned   the  capture 

but  too  certainly. 

In  the  account  given  in  the  Book  of  Daniel  of  this  event,  the  king 
is  called  Belshazzar  ;  and  we  are  told  that,  neglecting  the  duty  of 
watching  the  enemy,  he  gave  himself  up  to  feasting  and  revelry. 
The  incident  which  produced  so  starthng  an  interruption  to  his 
festivity,  and  foretold  the  doom  of  the  city  and  the  king,  is  familiar 
to  alL  The  following  lines  of  Lord  Byron  afford  a  poetic  description 
of  the  event. 


LV.— VISION  OF  BELSHAZZAK. 

BYBON. 

1.  The  king  was  on  his  throne, 

The  satraps  thronged  the  haL' 
A  thousand  blight  lamps  shone 
O'er  that  high  festival. 


THE  FIFTH   READfiil.  311 

A  thousand  cups  of  gold, 

In  Judah  deemed  divine — 
Jeliovali's  vessels  hold 

The  godless  heathen's  wine. 

2.  In  that  same  hour  and  hall, 

The  fingers  of  a  hand 
Came  forth  against  the  wall, 

And  wrote  as  if  on  sand 
The  fingers  of  a  man ; — 

A  solitary  hand 
Along  the  letters  ran. 

And  traced  them  like  a  wand. 

3.  The  monarch  saw  and  shook, 

And  bade  no  more  rejoice  ; 
All  bloodless  waxed  his  look, 

And  tremulous  his  voice. 
"  Let  the  men  of  lore  appear, 

The  wisest  of  the  earth, 
And  exp'ound  the  words  of  fear 

Which  mar  our  royal  mirth." 

4.  Chaldea's  seers  are  good, 

But  here  they  have  no  skill ; 
And  the  unknown  letters  stood 

Untold  and  awful  still. 
And  Babel's  men  of  age 

Are  wise  and  deep  in  lore ; 
But  now  they  were  not  sage, 

TLey  saw — but  knew  no  more 


812  THE  ITFTH  BEADitw 

5  A  captive*  in  the  land, 

A  stranger  and  a  youth, 
He  heard  the  king's  command. 

He  saw  that  writing's  truth. 
The  lamps  around  were  bright 

The  prophecy  in  \dew  ; 
He  read  it  on  that  night, — 
*      The  morrow  proved  it  true. 
6.  "  Belshazzar's  grave  is  made,         * 

His  kingdom  passed  away, 
He,  in  the  balance  weighed, 

Is  light  and  worthless  clay. 
The  shroud  his  robe  of  state. 

His  canopy  the  stone ; 
The  Mede  is  at  his  gate  ! 

The  Persian  on  his  throne !" 

'  Daniel  had  been  taken  to  Babylon  after  the  capture  of  Jerasalem 
by  Nebuchodonozer.  Like  Joseph  in  earlier  times,  he  gained  the  favoi 
of  the  king  ;  and  demonstrated  his  divine  endowment  by  interpreting 
the  dream  of  Nebuchodonozer,  He  had  been  trained  in  the  mysteries 
of  the  Chaldeans,  and  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Magi. 

Babylon  subsequently  revolted,  and  was  again  taken  by  Darius  Hys- 
tapses,  after  a  siege  of  two  years.  The  Persian  kings  afterward  made 
Babylon  their  place  of  residence,  until  the  kingdom  was  overturned  by 
Alexander  the  Great,  who  entered  the  city  as  a  conqueror  331  b.  c. 
The  great  temple  of  Belus  had  been  plundered  and  partly  demohshed 
by  Xerxes,  and  Alexander  undertook  to  restore  it :  but  although  he 
kept  ten  thousand  men  upon  it  for  two  months,  he  was  unable  to  clear 
away  the  rubbish.  The  Macedonian  conqueror  died  in  the  palace  ol 
Nebuchodonozer.  After  the  foundation  of  Selucia,  on  the  Tigris 
River  by  Selucus,  Babylon  fell  into  decay *^,  and  now  it  is  difficult  even 
to  identify  its  site. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  31j3 

LVL— MEMORY  AND  HOPE. 

PAUIiDINO. 

1.  Hope  is  the  leading-string  of  joutli ;  memory  the 
staff  of  age.  Yet,  for  a  long  time  they  were  at  variance, 
and  scarcely  ever  associated  together.  Memory  was 
almost  always  grave,  nay,  sad  and  melancholy.  She 
delighted  in  silence  and  repose,  amid  rocks  and  water- 
falls ;  and  whenever  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the 
ground,  it  was  only  to  look  back  over  her  shoulder. 
Hope  was  a  smiling,  dancing,  rosy  boy,  with  sparkling 
eyes,  and  it  was  impossible  to  look  upon  him  "vyithout 
being  inspired  by  his  gay  and  sprightly  buoyancy. 
Wherever  he  went,  he  diffused  gladuess  and  joy  around 
him ;  the  eyes  of  the  young  sparkled  brighter  than 
ever  at  his  approach ;  old  age,  as  it  cast  its  dim  glances 
at  the  blue  vault  of  heaven,  seemed  inspired  with  new 
vigor ;  the  flowers  looked  more  gay,  the  grass  more 
green,  the  birds  sung  more  cheerily,  and  all  nature 
seemed  to  sympathize  in  his  gladness.  Memory  was 
of  mortal  birth,  bur  Hope  partook  of  immortality. 

2.  One  day  they  chanced  to  meet,  and  Memory  re- 
proached Hope  with  being  a  deceiver.  She  charged 
him  with  deluding  manking  with  visionary,  impracti- 
cable schemes,  and  exciting  expectations  that  led  only 
to  disappointment  and  regret ;  with  being  the  ignis 
fatuus  oi  youth,  and  the  scourge  of  old  age.  But  Hope 
cast  back  upon  her  the  charge  of  deceit,  and  main- 
taiued  that  the  pictures  of  the  past  were  as  much  ex- 


314  THE  pT^rn  iieadee. 

aggerated  by  Memory,  as  were  the  anticipations  of 
Hope.  He  declared  that  she  looked  at  objects  at  a 
great  distance  in  the  past,  he  in  tlie^  future,  and  that 
this  distance  magnified  every  thing,  "  Let  us  make 
the  circuit  of  the  world,"  said  he,  "  and  try  the  experi- 
ment."* Memory  reluctantly  consented,  and  they  went 
thsir  way  together. 

3.  The  first  person  they  met  was  a  school-bov, 
lounging  lazily  along,  and  stopping  every  moment  to 
gaze  around,  as  if  unwilling  to  proceed  on  his  way.  By 
and  by,  he  sat  down,  and  burst  into  tears.  "  Whither 
so/ast,  my  good  lad  ?"  asked  Hope,  jeeringly.  "  I  am 
going  to  school,"  replied  the  lad,  "  to  study,  when  I 
would  rather,  a  thousand  times,  be  at  play  ;  and  sit  on 
a  bench  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  while  I  long  to  be 
sporting  in  the  fields.  But  never  mind,  I  shall  be  a 
man  soon,  and  then  I  shall  be  as  free  as  the  air. 
Sayii^g  this,  he  skipped  away  merrily  in  the  hope  of 
soon  being  a  man.  "  It  is  thus  you  play  upon  the  in- 
experience of  youth,"  said  Memory,  reproachfully. 

4.  Passing  onward,  they  met  a  beautiful  girl,  pacing 
slowly  and  with  a  melancholy  air,  behind  a  party  of 
gay  young  men  and  maidens,  who  walked  arm  in  arm 
with  each  other,  and  were  flirting  and  exchanging  all 
those  little  harmless  courtesies  which  nature  prompts 
on  such  occasions.  They  were  all  gayly  dressed  in 
silks  and  ribbons ;  but  the  Httle  girl  had  on  a  simple 
frock,  a  homely  apron,  and  clumsy,  thick-soled  shoes 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  815 

"Why  do  you  not  join  yonder  group,"  asked  Hope 
"  and  partake  in  their  gayety,  my  pretty  little  girl  ?'* 
**  x4.1as !"  replied  she,  "  they  take  no  notice  of  me. 
They  call  me  a  child.  But  I  shall  soon  be  a  woman, 
and  then  I  shall  be  so  happy  !"  Inspired  by  this  hope, 
she  quickened  her  pace,  and  soon  was  seen  dancing 
along  merrily  with  the  rest. 

5.  In  this  manner  they  wended  their  way  from 
nation  to  nation,  and  clime  to  clime,  until  they  had 
made  the  circuit  of  the  universe.  Wherever  they  came 
they  found  the  human  race,  who,  at  this  time,  were  all 

-  -  young  (it  being  not  many  years  since  the  first  creation 
-  of  mankind),  repining  at  the  present,  and  looking  for- 
ward to  a  riper  age  for  happiness.  All  anticipated 
some  future  good,  and  Memory  had  scarce  any  thing 
to  do  but  cast  looks  of  reproach  at  her  young  com- 
panion. 

6.  "  Let  us  return  home,"  said  she,  "  to  that  delight- 
ful spot  where  I  first  drew  my  breath.     I  long  to  re- 

~  pose  among  its  beautiful  bowers ;  to  listen  to  the 
brooks  that  murmured  a  thousand  times  more  musi- 
cally ;  to  the  birds  that  sang  a  thousand  times  more 
sweetly  ;  and  to  t^e  echoes  that  were  softer  than  any 
I  have  since  heard.'  Ah  !  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so 
enchanting  as  the  scenes  of  my  early  youth  !"  Hope 
indulged  himself  in  a  sly,  significant  smile,  and  they 
proceeded  on  their  return  home. 

7.  As  they  josmeyed  but  slowly,  many  years  elapsed 


316  TUE   FIFTH   EEADEK. 

ere  they  approaclied  the  spot  from  which  they  had 
departed.  It  so  happened  one  day,  that  they  met  an 
old  man,  bending  under  the  weight  of  years,  and 
walking  with  trembling  steps,  leaning  on  his  staff. 
Memory  at  once  recognized  him  as  the  youth  they  had 
seen  going  to  school,  on  their  first  onset  in  the  tour  of 
the  world.  As  they  came  nearer,  the  old  man  rechned 
on  his  staff,  and  looking  at  Hope,  who,  being  immortal, 
was  still  a  blithe  young  boy,  sighed,  as  if  his  heart 
was  breaking.  "  What  aileth  thee,  old  man  ?"  asked 
the  youth.  "  What  should  ail  me,  but  old  age  ?  I 
have  outlived  my  health  and  strength ;  I  have  survived 
all  that  was  near  and  dear ;  I  have  seen  all  that  I 
loved,  or  that  loved  me,  struck  down  to  the  earth  like 
dead  leaves  in  autumn ;  and  now  I  stand  like  an  old 
tree,  withering,  alone  in  the  world,  without  roots, 
without  branches,  and  without  verdure.  I  have  only 
just  enough  of  sensation  to  know  that  I  am  miserable, 
and  the  recollection  of  the  happiness  of  my  youthful 
days,  when,  careless  and  full  of  blissful  anticipations,  I 
was  a  laughing,  merry  boy,  only  adds  to  the  miseries  I 
now  endure." 

8.  "  Behold !"  said  Memory,  "  the  consequence  of 
thy  deceptions,"  and  she  looked  reproachfully  at  her 
companion.  "  Behold !"  replied  Hope,  "  the  decep- 
tion practiced  by  thyself.  Thou  persuadest  him  th^t 
he  was  happy  in  his  youth.  Dost  thou  remember 
the  boy  we  met  when  we  first  set  out  together,  who 


•nrE    FIFTH    JJEADEB. 


J17 


was  weeping  on  his  way  to  school,  and  sighed  to  be  a 
man  ?"     Memory  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  was  silent. 

9.  A  little  way  onward  they  came  to  a  miserable 
cottage,  at  the  door  of  which  was  an  aged  woman, 
meanly  clad,  and  shaking  with  palsy.  She  sat  all 
alone,  her  head  resting  on  her  bosom,  and  as  the  pair 
approached,  vainly  tried  to  raise  it  up  to  look  af  them. 
"  Good-morrow,  old  lady,  and  all  happiness  to  you," 
cried  Hope,  gayly,  and  the  old  woman  thought  it  was 
a  long  time  since  she  had  heard  such  a  cheering  saluta- 
tion. "  Happiness !"  said  she,  in  a  voice  that  quivered 
with  weakness  and  infirmity.  "  Happiness !  I  have 
not  known  it  since  I  was  a  little  girl,  without  care  or 
sorrow.  Oh,  I  remember  those  days,  when  I  thought 
of  nothing  but  the  present  moment,  nor  cared  for  the 
future  or  the  past.  When  I  laughed,  and  played,  and 
sung,  from  morning  till  night,  and  envied  no  one,  and 
wished  to  be  no  other  than  I  was.  But  those  happy 
times  are  passed,  never  to  return.  Oh,  could  I  but 
once  more  return  to  the  days  of  my  childhood !"  The 
old  woman  sunk  back  on  her  seat,  and  the  tears  flowed 
from  her  hollow  eyes.  Memory  again  reproached  her 
campanion,  but  he  only  asked  her  if  ^e  recollected 
the  little  girl  they  had  met  a  long  time  ago,  who  was 
so  miserable  because  she  was  so  young?  Memory 
knew  it  well  enough,  and  said  not  another  word. 

10.  They  now  approached  their  home,  and  Mem#ry 
was  on  tiptoe  with  the  thought  of  once  more  enjoying 


3lo  the  fipth  reader. 

the  unequaled  beauties  of  those  scenes  from  which 
she  had  been  so  long  separated.  But,  some  how  or 
other,  it  seemed  that  they  were  sadly  changed.. 
Neither  the  grass  was  so  green,  the  flowers  so  sweet 
and  lovely,  nor  did  the  brooks  murmur,  the  echoes 
answer,  nor  the  birds  sing  half  so  enchantingly,  as  she 
remembered  them  in  time  past.  "Alas!"  she  ex- 
claimed, "  how  changed  is  every  thing !  I  alone  am  the 
same  !"  "  Every  thing  is  the  same,  and  fhou  alone 
art  changed,"  answered  Hope.  "  Thou  hast  deceived 
.thyself  in  the  past,  just  as  much  as  I  deceive  ethers  in 
the  future." 

11.  "  What  are  you  disputing  about  ?"  asked  an  old 
man,  whom  they  had  not  observed  before,  though  he 
was  standing  close  by  them.  "I  have  lived  almost 
fourscore  and  ten  years,  and  my  experience  may, 
perhaps,  enable  me  to  decide  between  you."  They 
told  him  the  occasion  of  their  disagreement,  and 
related  the  history  of  their  journey  round  the  earth. 
The  old  man  smiled,  and  for  a  few  moments,  sat  buried 
in  thought.  He  then  said  to  them  :  "  I,  too,  have  lived 
to  see  all  the  hopes  of  my  youth  turn  into  shadows, 
clouds,  and  datrkness,  and  vanish  into  nothing.  I,  too, 
have  survived  my  fortune,  my  friends,  my  children ; 
the  hilarity  of  youth,  and  the  blessing  of  health." 
"  And  dost  thou  not  despair  ?"  said  Memory.  "  No,  I 
hi^e  still  one  hope  left  me."  "And  what  is  that  ?" 
"  The  hope  of  heaven!" 


THE  FIFTH  READEE.  319 

12.  Memory  turned  towards  Hope,  threw  herself 
into  his  arms,  which  opened  to  receive  her,  and,  burst- 
ing into  tears,  exclaimed :  "  Forgive  me,  I  have  done 
thee  injustice.  Let  us  never  again  separate  from  each 
other."  "With  all  my  heart,"  said  Hope,  and  they 
continued  forever  after  to  travel  together,  hand  in 
hand,  through  the  world. 


LVIL— CHBISTMAS. 

liOKD   JOHN   MANNERS. 

1.  Old  Christmas  comes  about  again, 

The  blessed  day  draws  near. 
Albeit  our  faith  and  love  do  wax 
More  faint  and  cold  each  year. 

Oh !  but  it  was  a  goodly  sound. 

In  th'  unenlightened  days, 
To  hear  our  fathers  raise  their  song 

Of  simple-hearted  praise. 

2.  Oh !  but  it  was  a  goodly  sight 

The  rough-built  hall  to  see. 
Glancing  with  high-born  dames  and  men. 
And  hinds^  of  low  degree. 

To  Holy  Church's  dearest  sons, 

The  humble  and  the  poor, 
To  all  who  came,  the  seneschal 

Threw  open  wide  the  door. 


J20  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

3.  With  morris-dance,  and  carol-song, 

And  quaint  old  mystery, 
Memorials  of  a  holy-day 
Were  mingled  in  their  glee. 

Red  berries  bright,  and  holly  green, 
Proclaimed  o'er  hall  and  bower, 

That  Holy  Church  ruled  all  the  land 
With  undisputed  power. 

4.  O'er  wrekin^  wide,  from  side  to  side. 

From  greybeard,  maid,  and  boy. 
Loud  rang  the  notes,  swift  flowed  the  tide 
Of  unrestrained  joy. 

And  now,  of  all  our  customs  rare. 
And  good  old  English  ways. 

This  one,  of  keeping  Ohristm as-time. 
Alone  has  reached  our  days. 

5.  Still,  though  our  hearty  glee  has  gone, 

Though  faith  and  love  be  cold, 
Btill  do  we  welcome  Christmas-tide 
As  fondly  as  of  old. 

Still  round  the  old  paternal  hearth 

Do  loving  faces  meet, 
And  brothers,  parted  through  the  year, 

Do  brothers  kindly  greet. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  321 

6.  Oil!  may  we  aye,  wliate'er  betide, 
Christian  joy  and  mirth, 
Sing  welcome  to  the  blessed  day 
That  gave  our  Saviour  birth ! 

liiNDs,  domestics  ;  rustics  of  low  |       for  country  ;  a  neighborhood 
degree.  1 3  Aye,  always  ;  forever. 

»  Wbb'-kin,   the  old  Anglo-Saxon 


LVIIL-THE  TRUCE  OF  GOD. 

FBEDET  > 

1.  Another  excellent  institution  that  owed  its  exist- 
tf^rxe  to  the  middle  ages,  and  for  which  humanity  was 
also  indebted  to  the  happy  influence  of  religion,  was 
the  sacred  compact  usually  termed  the  Truce  of  God. 
From  the  ninth  to  the  eleventh  century,  the  feudal 
system,  however  beautiful  in  many  of  its  principles, 
had  been  a  constant  source  of  contentions  and  wars. 
Each  petty  chieftain  arrogated  to  himseK  an  almost 
unlimited  use  of  force  and  violence  to  avenge  his 
wrongs,  and  pursue  his  rights,  whether  real  or  pre- 
tended. As,  moreover,  vassals  were  obliged  to  espouse 
the  quarrels  of  their  immediate  lords,  rapine,  blood- 
shed, and  their  attendant  miseries  were  to  be  seen 
everywhere;  nor  could  the  most  pacific  citizens  depend 
on  one  moment  of  perfect  security,  either  for  their 
properties  oi  their  lives. 

2.  Religion,  by  her  divine  and  universally  revered 


322  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

au'tliority,  was  alone  capable  of  raising  an  efficacious 
barrier  against  this  torrent  of  evils.  Experience 
having  already  shown  the  ira possibility  of  stemming  it 
at  onco,  prudent  measures  were  taken  gradually  to 
diminish  its  violence.  Several  bishops  ordered,  under 
penalty  of  excommunication,  that,  every  week,  during 
the  four  days  consecrated  to  the  memory  of  our 
Saviour's  passion,  death,  burial,  and  resurrection,  viz., 
from  the  afternoon  of  Wednesday  till  the  m'orning  of 
the  following  Monday,  whatever  might  be  the  cause  of 
strife  and  quarrel,  all  private  hostilities  should  cease. 

3.  Shortly  after,  the  same  prohibition  was  extended 
to  the  whole  time  of  Advent  and  Lent,  including  several 
weeks  both  after  Christmas  and  after  Easter-Sunday. 
This  beneficial  institution,  which  originated  in  France 
towards  the  year  1040,  was  adopted  in  England,  Spain, 
etc.,  and  was  confirmed  by  several  popes  and  councils ; 
nor  must  it  be  thought  that  it  remained  a  dead  letter  : 
its  success,  on  the  contrary,  was  so  remarkable,  that 
the  pious  age  in  which  the  experiment  was  madw, 
hesitated  not  to  attribute  it  to  the  interposition  of 
Heaven. 

4.  Thus,  by  the  exertions  of  ecclesiastical  authorit  \ , 
the  horrors  and  calamities  of  feuded  ivar  began  to  be 
considerably  lessened  and  abridged.  Its  ravages  wero 
restrained  to  three  days  in  the  week  and  to  certain 
seasons  of  the  jeav ;  during  the  intervals  of  peace, 
thf.rf'  was  leisure  for  passion  to  cool,  for  the  mind  to 


THE  FIFTH  READER,  323 

Bicken  at  a  languishing  warfare,  and  for  socival  habits  to 
become  more  and  more  deeply  rooted.  A  considerable 
number  of  days  and  weeks  afforded  security  to  all, 
and  all,  being  now  shielded  by  the  religious  sanction  of 
this  sacred  compaqt,  could  travel  abroad,  or  attend  to 
their  domestic  affairs ,  without  danger  of  molestation. 

5.  Such  was  the  splendid  victory  which  the  religion 
of  Christ  won  over  the  natural  fierceness  of  the  ancient 
tribes  of  the  north  ;  a  victory  whose  completion  was 
also  due  to  her  influence,  when  the  Crusades  obliged 
those  restless  warriors  to  turn  against  the '  invading 
hordes  of  the  Saracens  and  Turks,  those  weapons 
which  they  had  hitherto  used  against  their  fellow- 
christians. 


LIX.— THE  FLIGHT  OF  XEBXES. 

JEWSBUKY. 

1.  I  saw  him  on  the  battle-eve, 

When,  like  a  king,  he  bore  him, — 
Proud  hosts  in  glittering  helm  and  greave,  * 

And  prouder  chiefs  before  him : 
The  warrior,  and  the  warrior's  deeds — 
The  morrow,  and  the  morrow's  meeds, ^ — 

No  daunting  thoughts  came  o'er  him  ; 
He  looked  around  him,  and  his  eye 
Defiance  flashed  to  earth  and  sky. 


324  THE  FIFTH  keadt:ti. 

2.  He  looked  on  ocean, — its  broad  breast 

Was  covered  with  his  fleet ; 
On  earth — and  saw  from  east  to  west, 

His  bannered  millions  meet ; 
While  rock,  and  glen,  and  cave,  and  coast^ 
Shook  with  the  war-cry  of  that  host, 

The  thunder  of  their  feet ! 
He  heard  the  imperial  echoes  ring, — 
He  heard, — and  felt  himself  a  king. 

3.  I  saw  him  next  alone  : — nor  camp, 

Nor  chief,  his  steps  attended  ; 
Nor  banner  blazed,  nor  courser's  tramp 

With  war-cries  proudly  blended. 
He  stood  alone,  whom  fortune  high 
So  lately  seemed  to  defy ; 

He,  who  with  heaven  contended. 
Fled  like  a  fugitive  and  slave ! 
Behind — the  foe ;  before — the  wave. 

4.  He  stood  ; — ^fleet,  army,  treasure,  —gone, — 

Alone,  and  in  despair  ! 

But  wave  and  wind  swept  ruthless  on, 

For  they  were  monarchs  there  ; 

And  Xerxes,  in  a  single  bark, 

*  

Where  late  his  thousand  ships  were  dark, 

Must  all  their  fury  dare  : 

What  a  revenge — a  trophy,  this— r 

For  thee,  immortal  Salaniis  ! 

>   Gbeaves,  armor  for  the  legs. 
•  ]VJ!eeds,  reward,  recompense. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  325 

LX.— THE  AMERICAN  PATRIOT'S  SONG. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1.  Hark !  hear  ye  the  sounds  that  the  winds  on  their 

pinions 
Exultingly  roll  from  the  shore  to  the  sea, 
"With  a  voice  that  resounds  through  her  boundless 
dominions  ? 
*Tis  Columbia  calls  on  her  sons  to  be  free  ! 

2.  Behold  on  yon  summits,  where  heaven  has  throned 

her. 
How  she  starts  from  her  proud  inaccessible  seat, 
With  nature's  impregnable  ramparts  around  her. 
And  the  cataract's  thunder  and  foam  at  her  feet ! 

3.  In  the  breeze  of  her  mountains  her  loose  locks  are 

shaken, 
While  the  soul-stirring  notes  of  her  warrior -song 
From  the  rock  to  the  valley  re-echo,  "  Awaken, 
"  Awaken  ye  hearts  that  have  slumbered  too  long  !'* 

4.  Yes,  despots !  too  long  did  your  tyranny  hf.*ld  us, 

In  a  vassalage  vile,  ere  its  weakness  waa  known  ; 
Till  we  learned  that  the  links  of  the  chain  (hat  con- 
trolled us 
Were  forged  by  the  fears  of  its  captives  alone. 

5.  That  spell  is  destroyed,  and  no  longer  availing. 

Despised  as  detested — pause  well  ere  ye  dare 
To  cope  with  a  people  whose  spirit  and  feeling 
Are    roused    by    lemembramje    and    steeled     by 
despair. 


326  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

6.  Go  tame  the  wild  torrent,  or  stem  witli  a  straw 

The  proud  surges  that  sweep  o'er  the  strand  that 

confines  them  ; 
But  presume  not  again  to  give  freemen  a  law, 
Nor  think  with  the  chains  they  have  broken  to  bind 

them. 

7.  To  hearts  that  the  spirit  of  liberty  flushes, 

Resistance  is  idle, — and  numbers  a  dream  ; — 
They  burst  from  control,  as  the  mountain-stream 
rushes 
From  its  fetters  of  ice,  in  the  warmth  of  the  beam. 


LXL— OUE  SAVIOUE. 

LACOBDAIRE. 

1.  I  am  wrong,  gentlemen ;  there  is  a  Man  whose 
tomb  is  guarded  by  love,  there  is  a  Man  whose  sepul 
cher  is  not  only  glorious,  as  a  prophet  declared,  but 
whose  sepulcher  is  loved.  There  is  a  Man  whose  ashes, 
after  eighteen  centuries,  have  not  grown  cold ;  who 
daily  lives  again  in  the  thoughts  of  an  innumerable 
multitude  of  men  ;  who  is  visited  in  His  cradle  by  shep- 
herds and  by  kings,  who  vie  with  each  other  in  bring- 
Lig  to  Him  gold  and  frankincense  and  myrrh.  There 
is  a  Man  whose  steps  are  uuweariedly  retrodden  by  a 
large  portion  of  mankind,  and  who,  although  no  longer 
present,  is  followed  by  that  throng  in  all  the  scenes  of 
His  bygone  pilgvim.ig«3,  upon  the  knees  of  His  mother, 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  327 

by  the  borders  of  the  lakes,  to  the  tops  of  the  moun- 
tains, in  the  by-ways  of  the  valleys,  under  the  shade  of 
the  olive-trees,  in  the  still  solitude  of  the  deserts. 
There  is  a  Man,  dead  and  buried,  whose  sleep  and  whose 
awaking  have  ever  eager  watchers,  whose  every  word 
still  vibrates  and  produces  more  than  love,  produces 
virtues  fructifying  in  love.  There  is  a  Man,  who 
eighteen  centuries  ago  was  nailed  to  the  gibbet,  and 
whom  millions  of  adorers  daily  detach  from  this  throne 
of  His  suffering,  and  kneeling  before  Him,  prostrating 
themselves  as  low  as  they  can  without  shame,  there, 
upon  the  earth,  they  kiss  His  bleeding  feet  with  un- 
speakable ardor.  There  is  a  Man  who  was  scourged, 
killed,  crucified,  whom  an  ineffable  passion  raises  from 
death  and  infamy,  and  exalts  to  the  glory  of  love  un- 
faihng  which  finds  in  Him  peace,  honor,  joy,  and  even 
ecstacy.  There  is  a  Man  pursued  in  His  sufferings  and 
in  His  tomb  by  undying  hatred,  and  who,  demanding 
apostles  and  martyrs  from  all  posterity,  finds  apostles 
and  martyrs  in  all  generations.  There  is  a  Man,  iu 
fine,  and  one  only,  who  has  founded  His  love  upon 
earth,  and  that  Man  is  Thyself,  O  Jesus !  who  hast  been 
pleased  to  baptize  me,  to  anoint  me,  to  consecrate  me 
in  thy  love,  and  whose  name  alone  now  opens  my  verj^ 
heart,  and  draws  from  it  those  accents  which  ovei- 
power  me  and  raise  me  above  myself. 

2.  But  among  great  men  who  are  loved  ?     Among 
warriors?     Is  it  Alexander  ?     Co  ai- ?     Charlemagne? 


328  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

Among  sages  ?  Aristotle  ?  or  Plato  ?  Wlio  is  loved 
among  great  men?  Who?  Name  me  even  one  ;  name 
me  a  single  man  who  has  died  and  left  love  upon  his 
tomb.  Mahomet  is  venerated  by  Mussulmen ;  he  is 
not  loved.  No  feeling  of  love  has  ever  touched  the 
lieart  of  a  Mussulman  repeating  his  maxim  :  "  God  is 
God,  and  Mahomet  is  his  prophet."  One  man  alone 
has  gathered  from  all  ages  a  love  which  never  fails ; 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  sovereign  lord  of  hearts  as  He  is  of 
minds,  and  by  a  grace  confirmatory  of  that  which  be- 
longs only  to  Him,  He  has  given  to  His  saints  also  the 
privilege  of  producing  in  men  a  pious  and  faithful  re- 
membrance. 

3.  Yet  even  this  is  not  all ;  the  kingdom  of  souls  is 
not  yet  established.  Jesus  Christ,  being  God,  should 
not  be  satisfied  with  steadfast  faith  and  infmortal  love. 
He  must  exact  adoration.  Adoration  is  the  annihilation 
of  one's  self  before  a  superior  being,  and  this  sentiment 
gentlemen,  is  not  a  stranger  to  us.  It  lies,  like  all 
others,  in  the  very  depth  of  our  nature,  and  plays  a 
more  important  part  there  than  you  are  perhaps  aware 
of.  Let  us  not  disguise  this  truth  from  ourselves ;  all 
of  us,  more  or  less,  desire  to  be  adored.  It  is  this  in- 
nate thirst  for  adoration  which  has  produced  every 
tyranny. 

4.  You  sometimes  wonder  that  a  prince  should 
weave  together  numberless  intrigues  in  order  to  eman- 
cipate himself  from  Immati  and  divine  laws;  that  he 


THE  FlJrfH   READER.  320 

should  add  violence  to  cunning,  shed  streams  of  blood 
and  march  onward  to  the  execration  of  mankind  ;  3'ou 
ask  yourselves  why  he  does  this.  Ah  !  gentlemen,  for 
the  very  natural  object  of  being  adored,  of  seeing  every 
thought  subject  to  his  own,  every  will  in  conformity  to 
his  will,  every  right,  every  duty,  emanating  from  him, 
and  even  the  bodies  of  men  bent  like  slaves  before  his 
mortal  body.  Such  is  the  depth  of  our  heart,  as  was 
Satan's.  But  by  a  counterpoise  due  to  that  frightful 
malady  of  pride,  we  can  only  desire  adoration  for  our- 
selves by  abhorring  the  adoration  of  others.  Thence 
springs  the  execration  that  follows  despotism.  Man- 
kind, abased  by  a  power  despising  all  law,  concen- 
trates its  secret  indignation  within  itself,  awaits  the 
inevitable  day  of  the  despot's  weakness,  and,  when  that 
day  comes,  it  turns  upon  and  tramples  under  foot  the 
vile  creature  who  had  disdained  it  even  to  demanding 
incense  from  it. 

5.  A  great  orator  once  said  to  a  celebrated  tribune  : 
"  There  is  but  one  step  from  the  Capital  to  the  Tar- 
peian  rock."  I  shall  say  with  as  much  truth,  although 
in  less  grand  expression :  There  is  but  one  step  from 
the  altar  to  the  common  sewer.  "Whosoever  has  been 
addled  will  sooner  or  later  be  hurled  by  the  hand  of 
the  people  from  the  lofty  summit  of  divine  majesty 
usurped,  to  the  execration  of  eternal  opprobrium.  Suck 
do  we  find  history — that  power  charged  with  the  pro 


330  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

mulgation  of  the  judgments  of  God  upon  tlie  pride  of 
man. 

6.  In  spite  of  history,  however,  Jesus  Christ  is 
adored.  A  Man,  mortal  and  dead.  He  has  obtained 
adoration  which  still  endures,  and  of  which  the  world 
offers  no  other  example.  What  emperor  has  held  his 
temples  and  his  statues  ?  What  has  become  of  all  that 
population  of  gods  created  by  adulation?  Their  dust 
even  no  longer  exists,  and  the  surviving  remembrance 
of  them  serves  but  to  excite  our  wonder  at  the  extrava- 
gance of  men  and  the  justice  of  God.  Jesus  Christ 
alone  remains  standing  upon  His  altars,  not  in  a  corner 
of  the  world,  but  over  the  whole  earth,  and  among 
nations  celebrated  by  the  cultivation  of  the  mind.  The 
greatest  monuments  of  art  shelter  His  sacred  images, 
the  most  magnificent  ceremonies  assemble  the  people 
under  the  influence  of  His  name ;  poetry,  music,  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  exhaust  their  resources  to  proclaim  His 
glory  and  to  offer  Him  incense  worthy  of  the  adoration 
which  ages  have  consecrated  to  Him.  And  yet,  upon 
what  throne  do  they  adore  Him?  Upon  a  Cross! 
Upon  a  Cross  ?  They  adore  Him  under  the  mean  ap- 
pearance of  bread  and  wine !  Here,  thought  becomes 
altogether  confounded.  It  would  seem  that  this  ^an 
has  taken  delight  in  abusing  His  strange  power,  and 
in  insulting  mankind  by  prostrating  them  in  wonder 
before  the  most  vain  shadows.  Having  by  His  cruci- 
fixion descended  lower  than  death.  He  made  even  igno- 


THE   FIFTH   RE.VDER.  831 

miny  the  throne  of  His  divinitj' ;  and,  not  satisfied  with 
this  triumph,  He  willed  that  we  should  acknowledge 
His  supreme  essence  and  His  eternal  life  by  an  adora- 
tion which  is  a  startling  contradiction  to  our  senses 
Can  such  success  in  such  daring  be  in  any  way  under- 
stood? 

^7.  It  is  true  many  have  endeavored  to  overthrow  His 
altars ;  but  their  powerlessness  has  but  served  to  con- 
firm His  glory.  At  each  outrage^  He  has  seemed  to 
grow  greater ;  genius  has  protected  Him  against  ge- 
nius, science  against  science,  empire  against  empire ; 
whatever  arms  have  been  uplifted  against  Him  He  has 
made  His  own;  and,  when  apparently  vanquished, 
the  world  has  still  beheld  Him  calm,  serene,  master, 
adored ! 


LXIL— THE  BIETH  OF  OUR  SAVIOUB. 

DOMMET. 

It  was  the  calm  and  silent  night ! — 

Seven  hundred  years  and  fifty-three 
Had  Eome  been  growing  up  to  might, 

And  now  was  queen  of  land  and  sea ! 
No  sound  was  heard  of  clashing  wars, 

Peace  brooded  o'er  the  hushed  domain ; 
Apollo,  Pallas,  Jove  and  Mars 

Held  undisturbed  their  ancient  reign, 
In  the  solemn  midnight. 
Centuries  ago ! 


382  THE  FIFTH  KEADER. 

2.  'Twas  in  the  calm  and  silent  night ! 
The  senator  of  haughty  Rome 
Impatient  urged  his  chariot's  flight, 

From  lordly  revel  rolling  home. 
Triumphal  arches.,  gleaming,  swell 

His  breast  with  thouglits  of  boundless  awuf^ 
"What  recked^  the  Roman  what  befell  « 

A  paltry  province  far  away, 
In  the  solemn  midnight, 
Centuries  ago. 

8.  Within  that  province  far  away 

Went  plodding  home  a  weary  boor ; 
A  streak  of  light  before  him  lay, 

Fallen  through  a  half-shut  stable  door 
Across  his  path.     He  paused,  for  naught 

Told  what  was  going  on  within ; 
How  keen  the  stars,  his  only  thought ; 
The  air  how  calm,  and  cold,  and  thin, 
In  the  solemn  midnight, 
Centuries  ago ! 

4.  O,  strange  indifference ! — low  and  high, 
Drowsed''  over  common  joys  and  caros 

The  earth  was  still,  but  knew  not  why ; 
The  world  was  listening — unawares ! 

How  calm  a  moment  may  precede 

One  that  shall  thrill  the  world  forever  t 

To  that  still  momeiit  none  would  heed. 


TfiE  FIFTH  READEE.  333 

Man's  doom  was  linked,  no  more  to  sever, 
In  the  solemn  midnight. 
Centuries  ago ! 

6.  It  is  the  calm  and  solemn  night  I 

A  thousand  bells  ring  out,  and  throw 
Their  joyous  peals  abroad,  and  smite 

The  darkness,  charmed  and  holy  now ! 
The  night  that  erst  no  shame  had  worn, 

To  it  a  happy  name  is  given  ; 
For  in  that  stable  lay,  new-born, 

The  peaceful  Prince  of  earth  and  heaven, 
In  the  solemn  midnight, 
Centuries  ago ! 

•  Beoe'-ed,  heeded  ;  regarded.      |      2  Dbows'-ed,  supine  ;  dull 


LXm.— DEATH   OF  ST.   THOMAS  A  BECKET,  ARCHBISHOP 
OF  CANTERBURY. 


[Thomas  a  Becket  was  appointed  chancellor  shortly  after  the  ac- 
cession of  Henry  II.,  by  whom  he  was  treated  with  the  most  un- 
bounded confidence  and  favor.  The  pomp  of  his  retinue,  the 
Bumptuousness  of  his  furniture  and  apparel,  and  the  luxury  of  his 
table,  were  scarcely  surpassed  by  those  of  the  king  himself ;  and  he 
exercised  very  great  influence  in  all  afiairs  of  state.  Being  made  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  he  changed  his  whole  course  of  life,  and  became 
as  distinguished  in  austerity  and  piety  as  he  had  been  previously  for 
his  luxury  and  splendor.  The  king  desiring  to  bring  the  Church  into 
a  greater  subservience  to  the  royal  power,  was  vigorously  opposed  by 
the  archbishop  who  determined  to  defend  to  the  last  the  privileges  0/ 
the  Church.     The  king,  however,  succeeded  in  carrying  his  measures 


331  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

for  a  time,  and  Eecket  fled  to  France.  The  remainder  of  his  hisiorj 
is  told  in  the  following  narrative,  taken  from  the  "History  of  England," 
by  Di;,  Lingard.  *    c- 

1.  Becket,  after  an  absence  of  six  years,  returned  to 
England,  accompanied  by  John,  Bishop  of  Oxford. 
He  carried  with  him  letters  of  excommunication  against 
three  prelates,  for  having  officiated  at  the  coronation 
of  the  son  of  Henry,  and  otherwise  abetting  the  king. 
These  prelates  sent  soldiers  to  seize  the  letters ;  but 
Becket,  hearing  of  their  intention,  gave  them  to  a 
messenger,  who  handed  them  publicly  to  the  bishops, 
at  which  circumstance  they  were  so  indignant,  tliat 
they  went  to  Henry,  in  France,  and  endeavored  as 
much  as  possible  to  rekindle  discord  between  him  and 
Becket. 

2.  Under  the  protection  of  his  conductor,  the  pri- 
mate reached  Canterbury,  where  he  was  joyfully 
received  by  the  clergy  and  people.  Thence  he  pre- 
pared to  visit  Woodstock,  the  residence  of  the  young 
Henry,  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  prince,  and  to  justify 
his  late  conduct ;  but  the  courtiers,  who  dreaded  his 
influence  over  the  mind  of  his  former  pupil,  procured  a 
peremptory  order  for  him  to  return,  and  confine  him- 
self to  his  own  diocese.  He  obeyed,  and  spent  the 
following  days  in  prayer  and  the  functions  of  his 
station. 

3.  Yet  they  were  days  of  distress  and  anxiety.  The 
menaces  of  his  enemies  seemed  to  derive  importance 
from    each   succeeding    ^.vent.       His    provisions   were 


TBS  FIFTH    "RTr.AT>ifr.R,  335 

lioiirly  intercepted  ;  his  property  was  plundered  ;  hia 
servants  were  beaten  and  insulted.  On  Christmas-day 
he  ascended  the  pulpit ;  his  sermon  was  distinguished 
by  the  earnestness  and  animation  with  which  he 
spdve.  At  the  conclusion,  he  observed  that  those  who 
thirsted  for  his  blood  would  soon  be  satisfied,  but  ,that 
he  would  first  avenge  the  wrongs  of  his  church  by  ex- 
communicating Eanulph  and  Kobert*  de  Broc,  who  for 
seven  years  had  not  ceased  to  inflict  every  injury  in 
their  power  on  him,  on  his  clergy,  and  on  his  monks. 

4.  On  the  following  Tuesday,  four  knights,  Keginald 
Fitzurse,  William  Tracy,  Hugh  de  Morevihe,  and 
"Richard  Brito,  arrived  secretly  in  the  neighborhood. 
They  had  been  present  in  Normandy,  when  the  king, 
irritated  by  the  representations  of  the  three  bishops, 
had  exclaimed,  "  Of  the  cowards  who  eat  my  bread,  is 
there  not  one  who  will  free  me  from  this  turbulwnt 
priest  ?"  and  mistaking  this  passionate  expression  for 
the  royal  license,  had  bound  themselves  by  oath  to 
return  to  England,  and  either  carry  off  or  murder  the 
primate.  They  assembled  at  Saltwood,  the  residence 
of  the  Brocs,  to  arrange  their  operations. 

5.  The  next  day,  after  dinner,  when  the  archbishop 
was  transacting  business  in  a  private  apartment,  it  was 
announced  that  four  knights  wished  to  speak  with  him 
from  the  king.  He  ordered  them  to  be  admitted,  and 
at  the  same  time  sent  for  the  principal  persons  in  his 
Lousehold  to  be  present.     The  knights  entered  very 


O.JO  THB  FIFTH  BEADEB. 

auceremoniously,  and  seated  tlieinselves  apart  on  the 
floor.  Becket,  who  pretended  at  first  not  to  notice 
their  entrance,  casting  his  eyes  upon  them,  saw  that 
^hree  of  the  four  were  well  known  to  him,  having  been 
formerly  in  his-  service  aud  done  homage  to  him.     , 

6.  lie  saluted  them,  but  the  salute  was  returned 
with  insult.  They  ordered  him,  as  if  they  had  such  a 
commission  from  the  king,  to  absolve  the  excommuni- 
cated prelates,  and  to  make  satisfaction  to  the  young 
Henry,  whom  he  had  traitorously  attempted  to  deprive 
of  the  crown.  He  replied  with  firmness,  and  occasion- 
ally with  warmth,  that  if  he  had  pubhshed  the  papal 
letters,  it  had  been  with  the  permission  of  his 
sovereign ;  that  the  case  of  the  Archbishop  of  York 
had  been  reserved  to  the  pontiff;  that  with  respect  to 
the  other  bishops,  he  was  wilHng  to  absolve  them, 
whenerer  they  should  take  the  accustomed  oath  of 
submission  to  the  determination  of  the  Church;  and 
that,  so  far  from  wishing  to  take  the  crown  from  his 
former  pupil,  the  young  king,  he  called  God  to  witness 
that  he  would,  if  it  were  in  his  power,  heap  additional 
crowns  upon  his  head. 

7.  They  then  declared  that  if  such  were  his  resolv^ 
lie  must  quit  England  forever.  Neither  he  nor  his 
could  have  peace  in  the  king's  dominions.  "No," 
exclaimed  the  archbishop  ;  "  never  again  shall  the  sea 
lie  between  me  and  my  Church.  Here  I  am.  If  1 
am  permitted  to  j)erform  my  dutios,  it  is  well ;  if  nol^ 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  337 

I  submit  to  the  will  of  God.  But  how  comes  it  that 
you,  knowing  what  was  heretofore  between  us,  dare  to 
threaten  me  in  my  own  house  ?"  "  We  shall  do  more 
than  threaten,"  was  the  reply.  Fitzurse  then  called 
upon  the  archbishop's  men  to  give  him  back  their 
homage ;  and  ordered  all  present,  in  the  king's  name, 
to  keep  watch  over  him,  that  he  did  not  escape. 
"  Have  no  fear  of  that,"  he  exclaimed,  following  them 
to  the  door  ;  "  come  when  you  may,  you  will  find  me 
here." 

.The  knights  withdrew  to  a  large  house  immedi- 
ately opposite,  where  they  armed  themselves  and  their 
followers ;  and,  to  prevent  a  rescue,  sent  an  order,  in 
the  king's  name,  to  the  mayor  and  his  brethren,  to 
preserve  the  peace  in  the  city.  At  the  departure  of 
the  knights,  the  archbishop  returned  to  his  seat,  ap- 
parently cool  and  collected.  Neither  in  tone  nor 
gesture  did  he  betray  the  slightest  apprehension, 
though  consternation  and  despair  were  depicted  on 
every  countenance  around  him. 

9.  It  was  the  hour  of  evening  service,  and  at  the 
sound  of  the  psalmody  in  the  choir,  a  voice  exclaimed, 
'*To  the  church — it  will  afford  protection."  But 
Becket  had  said  that  he  would  wait  them  there,  and 
refused  to  remove  from  the  place.  Word  was  now 
brought  that  the  knights  had  forced  their  way  through 
the  garden,  and  made  an  entrance  by  the  windows. 
A  few  moments  later  they  were  heard,  at   no   great 


**38  THE   FIFTH   RE.iDER. 

distance,  breaking  down  with  axes  a  strong  partition 
of  oak,  which  impeded  their  progress.  In  a  paroxysm 
of  terror,  the  archbishop's  attendants  closed  around 
him,  and  notwithstanding  his  resistance,  bore  him  with 
pious  violence  through  the  cloister  into  the  chuich. 
The  door  was  immediately  closed  and  barred  against 
the  assassins,  who  were  already  in  sight. 
-'10.  Becket  walked  leisurely  along  the  transept,  and 
was  ascending  the  steps  which  led  to  his  favorite  altar, 
•when  he  heard  the  cries  of  the  knights,  demanding  ad- 
mission at  the  door.  Without  hesitation,  he  ordered 
it  to  be  thrown  open,  saying  that  the  house  of  God 
should  not  be  made  a  military  fortress.  Immediately 
his  attendants,  monks,  and  clergy,  dispersed  to  conceal 
themselves,  some  behind  the  columns,  others  under  the 
altars.  Had  he  followed  their  example,  he  might 
have  saved  his  life  ;  for  it  was  growing  dark,  and  both 
the  crypts  and  the  staircase  before  him,  which  led  to 
the  roof,  offered  places  of  concealment.  But  he  turned 
to  meet  his  enemies ;  and  stationing  himself,  with  his 
back  against  a  column,  between  the  altars  of  St.  Mary 
and  St.  Bennet,  waited  their  approach. 

11.  The  four  knights  and  their  twelve  companions 
rushed  into  the  church,  with  drawn  swords  and  loud 
cries.  "  To  me,  ye  king's  men,"  shouted  their  leader. 
"  Where  is  the  traitor?"  exclaimed  Hugh  of  Horsey,  a 
military  sub-deacon,  'known  by  the  characteristic  sur- 
name of  Manclerc.     No  answer  was  returned ;  but  to 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  339 

the  question,  *  Wliere  is  the  archbishop  ?'  Becket  re- 
plied, "Here  I  am,  the  archbishop,  but  no  traitor. 
What  is  your  will?"  They  turned  to  him  and  insisted 
that  he  should  immediately  absolve  all  whom  he  had 
placed  under  ecclesiastical  censures ;  to  which  he  re- 
plied that,  until  they  had  promised  satisfaction,  he  could 
not.  "  Then  die,"  exclaimed  a  voice.  "  I  am  ready," 
returned  the  prelate,  "  to  die  for  the  cause  of  God  and 
the  Church.  But  I  forbid  you,  in  the  name  of  the  Al- 
mighty God,  to  touch  any  one  of  my  household,  clerk 
or  layman." 

12.  There  seems  to  have  been  some  hesitation  on 
the  part  of  the  murderers.  They  would  rather  have 
shed  his  blood  without  the  Church  than  within  its 
walls.  An  attempt  was  made  by  some  of  them  to  drag 
him  away  ;  but  he  resisted  it  with  success,  through  the 
aid  of  a  clergyman  called  Edward  Grim,  who  threw  his 
arms  round  the  archbishop's  waist.  "  Beginald,"  said 
Becket  to  Fitzurse,  "  how  dare  you  do  this  ?  Remem- 
ber, that  you  have  been  my  man."  "  I  am  now  the 
king's  man,"  replied  the  assassin,  aiming  a  blow  at  the 
primate's  head.  Grim  interposed  his  arm,  which  was 
broken  and  severed  in  two ;  still  the  sword  passed 
through  Becket's  cap  and  wounded  him  on  the  crown. 

13.  As  he  felt  the  blood  trickling  down  his  cheek,  he 
wiped  it  away  with  his  sleeve,  and  having  joined  his 
bands  and  bent  his  head  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  said 
"  Into  thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I  commend   my  spirit."     In 


310  THE   FIFTH  KEADEIi. 

this  posture,  witli  his  face  to  his  murderers,  and  with- 
out shrinking  or  speaking,  he  awaited  a  second  stioke, 
which  threw  him  on  his  knees  and  elbows.  The  third 
stroke  was  given  by  Richard  Brito,  with  such  violence 
that  he  cut  off  the  upper  part  of  the  archbishop's  head 
and  broke  his  own  sword  on  the  pavement.  The 
murderers  were  retiring,  when  Hugh  of  Horsey,  turn- 
ing back,  set  his  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  corpse,  and 
drawing  the  brain  out  of  the  skull  with  the  point  of 
his  sword,  scattered  it  around.  "  Fear  not,"  he  said, 
"  the  man  will  never  rise  again."  They  returned  to 
the  palace,  which  they  rifled,  taking  away  with  them 
spoil,  as  it  was  estimated,  to  the  value  of  two  thousand 
marks. 

14.  Thus  at  the  age  of  fifty-three,  perished  this  ex- 
traordinary man,  a  martyr  to  what  he  deemed  his  duty 
— the  preservation  of  the  immunities  of  the  Church. 
The  moment  of  his  death  was  the  triumph  of  his  cause. 
His  personal  virtues  and  exalted  station,  the  dignity 
and  composure  with  which  he  met  his  fate,  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  place  where  the  murder  was  perpetrated — 
all  contributed  to  inspire  men  with  horror  for  his 
enemies  and  veneration  for  his  character. 


THE  FIFTH   READEK.  341 

LXIV.— MONK  FELIX. 

LONGFELLOW. 

1.  One  morning  all  alone, 

Out  of  his  convent  of  gray  stone, 

Into  tlie  forest  older,  darker,  grayer, 

His  lips  moving  as  if  in  prayer. 

His  head  sunken  upon  his  breast 

As  in  a  dream  of  rest, 

Walked  the  Monk  Felix.     All  about 

The  broad,  sweet  sunshine  lay  without 

Filling  the  summer  air  ; 

And  within  the  woodlands  as  he  trod. 

The  twihght  was  like  the  truce  of  God, 

With  worldly  woe  and  care. 

2  Under  him  lay  the  golden  moss  ; 

And  above  him  the  boughs  of  the  hemlock  trees 

Waved,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
'    And  whispered  their  Benedicites  ; 

And  from  the  ground 

Hose  an  odor,  sweet  and  fragrant, 

Of  the  wild-flowers  and  the  vagrant 

Vines  that  wandered. 

Seeking  the  sunshine  round  and  round ; 

These  he  heeded  not,  but  pondered 

On  the  volume  in  his  hand, 

A  volume  of  St.  Augustin, 

Wherein  he  read  of  the  unseen 

Splendors  of  God's  great  town 


342  THE  rrPTE  reader. 

In  the  unknown  land, 

And,  with  his  eyes  cast  down, 

In  hamility  he  said  : 

"  I  beheve,  0  God, 

What  herein  I  have  read. 

But,  alas  !  I  io  not  understand  I" 

3.  And  lo !  he  heard 

The  sudden  singing  of  a  bird, 

A  snow-white  bird,  that  from  a  cloud 

Dropped  down, 

And  among  the  branches  brown 

Sat  singing 

So  sweet,  and  clear,  and  loud 

It  seemed  a  thousand  harp-strings  ringing. 

And  the  Monk  Felix  closed  his  book. 

And  long,  long. 

With  rapturous  look, 

He  listened  to  the  song, 

And  hardly  breathed  or  stirred, 

Until  he  saw,  as  in  a  vision, 

The  land  of  Elysian, 

And  in  the  heavenly  city  heard 

Angelic  feet 

Fall  on  the  golden  flagging  of  the  street. 

And  he  woald  fain  have  caught  the  wondrous  bird. 

But  strove  in  vain  ; 

For  it  flew  away,  away. 


THE   FIFTH   KEADEK,  343 

Far  over  hill  and  dell, 

And  instead  of  its  sweet  singing 

He  heard  the  convent  bell 

Suddenly  in  the  silence  ringing 

For  the  service  of  noonday. 

And  he  retraced 

His  pathway  homeward,  sadly  and  in  haste. 
4  In  the  convent  there  was  a  change  I 

He  looked  for  each  well-known  face, 

But  the  faces  were  new  and  strange ; 

N^ew  figures  sat  in  the  oaken  stalls, 

New  voices  chanted  in  the  choir  ; 

Yet  the  place  was  the  same  place. 

The  same  dusty  walls 

Of  old  gray  stone  ; 

The  same  cloisters,  and  belfry,  and  spire. 
V.  A  stranger  and  alone 

Among  that  brotherhood 

The  Monk  Felix  stood. 

"  Forty  years,"  said  a  friar, 

"  Have  I  been  prior 

Of  this  convent  in  the  wood ; 

But  for  that  space. 

Never  have  I  beheld  thy  face  I" 
6.  The  heart  of  the  Monk  Felix  fell ; 

And  he  answered  with  submissive  tone, 

"  This  morning  after  the  hour  of  Prime 

I  left  my  cell. 


314  THE  FIFTH  READriL 

And  wandered  forth  alone, 

Listening  all  tlie  time 

To  the  melodious  singing 

Of  a  beautiful  white  bi^4. 

Until  I  heard 

The  bells  of  the  convent  ringing 

Noon  from  their  noisy  towers. 

It  was  as  if  I  dreamed  ; 

For  what  to  me  had  seemed 

Moments  only,  had  been  hours  !'* 

7.  "Years !"  said  a  voice  close  by.    ' 
It  was  an  aged  monk  who  spoke, 
From  a  bench  of  oak 
Fastened  against  the  wall ; 
He  was  the  oldest  monk  of  alL 
For  a  whole  century 
Had  he  been  there, 
Serving  God  in  prayer, 
The  meekest  and  humblest  of  his  creatures. 
He  remembered  well  the  features 
Of  Felix,  and  he  said, 
Speaking  distinct  and  slow 
".  One  hundred  years  ago. 
When  I  was  a  novice  in  this  plaae, 
There  was  here  a  monk  full  of  God's  grace, 
Who  bore  the  name 
Of  Fehx,  and  this  man  must  be  the  same." 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  345 

8.  And  straightway 

They  brought  forth  to  the  light  of  day 

A  volume  old  and  brown, 

A  huge  tome,  bound 

In  brass  and  wild  boar's  hide, 

Wherein  was  written  down 

The  names  of  all  who  had  died 

In  the  convent  since  it  was  edified. 

And  there  they  found, 

Just  as  the  old  monk  said, 

That  on  a  certain  day  and  date, 

Olie  hundred  years  before. 

Had  gone  forth  from  the  convent  gate 

The  Monk  Felix,  and  never  more 

Had  entered  that  sacred  door. 

He  had  been  counted  among  the  dead  ! 

And  they  knew,  at  last, 

That  such  had  been  the  power 

Of  that  celestial  and  immortal  song, 

A  hundred  years  had  passed. 

And  had  not  seemed  so  long  as  a  single  hour  I 


LXIV.— THE    FIRST    CRUSADE. 

CONDENSED    FKOM   MICHELKT.^ 

1.  A  Picard,  usually  called  Peter  the  Hermit,  is  s  ud 
to  have  powerfully  contributed,  by  his  eloquence,  to  the 
great  popular  movement.     On  his  return  from  a  pil- 


316  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

grimage  to  Jerusalem,  lie  persuaded  the  Pope,  Urban 
II.,  to  preach  the  crusade,  first  at  Placenza,  then  at 
Clermont  (a,  d.  1095;.  In  Italy  the  call  was  unheeded , 
in  France  every  one  rushed  to  arms.  At  .the  council  of 
Clermont,  four  hundred  bishops  or  mitered  abbots  were 
present ;  it  was  the  triumph  of  the  Church  and  the 
people  ;  and  the  condemnation  of  the  greatest  names 
on  the  earth,  those  of  the  emperor  and  the  king  of 
France,  no  less  than  the  Turks ;  and  of  the  dispute  as 
well,  concerning  the  riglit  of  investiture,  which  had  got 
mixed  up  with  the  question  of  advance  on  Jerusalem. 
All  mounted  the  red  cross  on  their  shoulders.  *  Red 
stu£fs  and  vestments  of  every  kind  were  torn  in  pieces, 
yet  were  insufficient  for  the  purpose. 

2.  An  extraordinary  spectacle  was  then  presented : 
the  world  seemed  upside  down.  Men  suddenly  con- 
ceived a  disgust  for  all  they  had  before  prized  ;  and 
hastened  to  quit  their  proud  castles,  their  wives,  and 
children.  There  was  no  need  of  preaching ;  they 
preached  to  each  other,  says  a  cotemporary,  both  by 
word  and  example.  "Thus,"  he  proceeds  to  say,  "  was 
fulfilled  the  saying  of  Solomon — '  The  locusts  have  no 
king,  yet  go  they  forth  all  of  them  by  bands.'  These 
locusts  had  not  soared  on  deeds  of  goodness  so  long  as 
they  remained. stiffened  and  frozen  in  their  iniquity, 
but  no  sooner  were  they  warmed  by  the  rays  of  the  sun 
of  justice,  than  they  rose  and  took  their  flight." 

3.  "  They  had  no  king.       Each  behoving  soul  chose 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  347 

God  alone  for  his  guide,  his  chief,  his  companion  m 
arms.  Though  the  French  alone  had  heard  the  preach- 
ing of  the  crusade,  what  Christian  people  did  not  sup- 
ply soldiers  as  well  ?  You  might  have  seen  the  Scotch 
covered  with  a  shaggy  cloak,  hasten  from  the  heart  of 
their  marshes.  I  take  God  to  witness,  that  there 
landed  in  our  ports  barbarians  from  nations  I  wist  not 
of :  no  one  understood  their  tongue,  but  placing  their 
fingers  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  they  made  a  sign  that 
they  desired  to  proceed  to  the  defense  of  the  Christian 
faith. 

4.  There  were  some  who  at  first  had  no  desire  to 
Bet  out,  and  who  laughed  at  those  who  parted  with 
their  property,  foretelling  them  a  miserable  voyage  and 
a  more  miserable  return.  The  next  day  these  very 
mockers,  by  some  sudden  impulse,  gave  all  they  had 
for  money,  and  set  out  with  those  whom  they  had  just 
laughed  at.  "Who  can  name  the  children  and  aged 
women  who  prepared  for  war ;  who  count  the  virgins 
and  old  men  trembling  under  the  weight  of  years? 
You  would  have  smiled  to  see  the  poor  shoeing  their 
oxen  like  horses,  dragging  their  slender  stock  of  pro- 
visions and  their  little  children  in  carts ;  and  these  little 
ones  at  each  town  or  castle  they  came  to  ask  in  theii 
simplicity,  "  Is  not  that  the  Jerusalem  that  we  are  going 
to?' "  Peter  the  Hermit  marched  at  their  head,  bare- 
footed, and  girt  with  a  chord  ?  Others  followed  a  bravQ 
and  poor  kniglit  whom  thej^  called  Walter  the  Penniless. 


348  THE   FIFTH    READEK. 

Among  so  many  thousands  of  men  tliere  were  not  eight 
horses.  Some  Germans  followed  the  example  of  the 
French,  and  set  out  under  the  guidance  of  a  countryman 
of  their  own,  named  Gotteschalk.  The  whole  descended 
the  valley  of  the  Danube — the  route  followed  by  Attila, 
the  highway  of  mankind. 

5.  No  king  took  part  in  the  crusade,  but  many  lords 
more  powerful  than  kings.  Hugh  of  Yermandois 
(-dwah),  brother  of  the  king  of  France,  and  son-in-law 
of  the  king  of  England,  wealthy  Stephen  of  Blois 
(bhvah)  ;  Robert  Curt-Hoso,  William  the  Conqueror's 
son,  and  the  count  of  Flanders,  set  out  at  the  same 
time — all  equal,  none  chief.  They  did  but  little  honor 
to  the  crusade.  The  fat  Robert,  the  man  of  all  others 
who  lost  a  kingdom  with  the  best  grace,  only  went  to 
Jerusalem  through  idleness:  Hugh  and  Stephen  re- 
turned without  reaching  it. 

6.  The  voice  of  the  people,  which  is  that  of  God,  has 
ascribed  all  the  glory  of  the  crusade  to  Godfrey,  son  of 
the  Count  of  Boulogne  fhoo-lone),  margrave  of 
Antwerp,  duke  of  Bouillon  and  of  Lothier,  and  king  of 

Jerusalem While  yet  a  child,  he  had  often 

said  that  he  would  go  with  an  army  to  Jerusalem ;  and 
as  soon  as  the  crusade  was  proclaimed  he  sold  his 
lands  to  the  Bishop  of  Liege,  and  set  out  for  the  Holy 
Land,  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  ten  thousand  horse- 
men and  seventy  thousand  foot,  French,  I^orr£|,ins,  and 
Germans.  .  .  . 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  349 

7.  The  crusaders  [wlio,  in  the  first  transports  of 
enthusiasm  into  which  they  had  been  thrown  at  the 
sight  of  the  holy  city,  had  felt  assured  of  taking  it  by 
assault,  were  repulsed  by  the  besieged.  They  found 
themselves  compelled  to  resort  to  the  slow  process  of 
a  siege,  and  to  sit  down  before  the  city  in  this  desolate 
region,  alike  destitute  of  trees  and  of  water.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  demon  had  blasted  everytning  with 
his  breath,  at  the  approach  of  the  army  of  Christ. 

8.  Sorceresses  appeared  on  the  walls,  who  hurled 
fatal  words  at  'the  besiegers,  but  it  was  not  by- words 
*hat  they  were  answered ;  and  one  of  them,  in  the 
midst  of  her  conjurations,  was  struck  by  a  stone 
launched  from  the  machines  of  the  Christians,  which 
had  been  made  under  the  direction  of  the  viscount  of 
Beam,  from  the  trees  of  the  only  wood  which  the 
neighborhood  furnished,  and  which,  by  his  orders,  had 
been  cut  down  by  the  Genoese  and  Gascons.  Two 
movable  towers  were  built,  one  for  the  count  of  St. 
Gille,  and  the  other  for  the  duke  of  Lorraine. 

9.  Daily  for  eight  days,  and  barefooted,  the  crusad- 
ers had  walked  in  procession  round  Jerusalem  ;  which 
don^,  a  general  assault  was  made  by  the  whole  army, 
Godfrey's  tower  rolled  to  the  walls,  and  on  Friday,  the 
15th  of  July,  1099,  at  three  o'clock,  on  the  very  day, 
and  at  the  very  hour  of  the  Passion,  Godfrey  of 
Bouillon  descended  from  his  tower  on  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem.     The  city  was   taken    and    the   crusaders 


350  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

repaired,  with  tears  and  groans  and  beatings  of  the 
breast,  to  worship  at  the  holy  tomb.  The  next 
question  was,  who  was  to  be  king  of  the  conquest, — - 
who  was  to  have  the  melancholy  honor  of  defending 

Jerusalem Godfrey  resigned  himself  to  the 

burden,  but  would  not  assume  the  kingly  crown  in  a 
spot  where  the  Saviour  had  worn  one  of  thorns.  The 
only  title  he  would  accept  was  that  of  defender  and 
baron  of  the  holy  sepulcher.  .  .  . 

10.  And  what  is  the  effect  of  the  crusade  on  the 
Christians  as  regards  each  other  ?  Humanity,  charity, 
and  equahty  have  been  the  lessons  taught  by  this 
fellowship  in  extremity  of  peril  and  of  misery.  Chris- 
tendom, momentarily  collected  under  the  same  banner, 
has  felt  a  sort  of  European  patriotism.  Whatever  the 
temporal  views  mixed  up  with  their  enterprise,  the 
greater  number  have  tasted  the  sweets  of  virtue,  and 
at  least  dreamed  of  holiness ;  have  striven  to  rise 
above  themselves,  and  have  become  Christians,  at 
least  in  hate  of  the  infidels. 

11.  The  day  on  which,  without  distinction  of  free- 
men and  of  serfs,  the  powerful  among  them  called  their 
followers.  Our  Poor, — that  day  was  the  era  of  freedom. 
Man  having  been  for  a  moment  drawn  out  of  local 
servitude,  and  led  in  full  blaze  of  day  through  Europe 
and  Asia  by  the  great  movement  of  the  crusade,  en- 
countered liberty  while  he  sought  Jerusalem.  The 
liberating  trumpet  of  the  archangel,  which  the  wojld 


THE    FIFTH  READER.  351 

t  V  .rcied  it  had  heard  in  the  year  1000,  was  sounded  a 
century  later  by  the  preaching  of  the  crusade. 

12.  At  the  foot  of  the  feudal  tower,  which  oppressed 
it  by  its  darkening  shadow,  awoke  the  village  ;  and 
that  ruthless  man  who  had  only  stooped  down  from  his 
vulture's  nest  to  despoil  his  vassals,  armed  them  him- 
self, led  them  with  him,  lived  with  them,  suffered  with 
them :  community  of  suffering  touched  his  heart. 
More  than  one  serf  could  say  to  his  superior,  "  My 
lord,  I  found  a  cup  of  water  for  you  in  the  desert — I 
shielded  you  with  my  body  at  the  siege  of  Antiooh  or 
of  Jerusalem." 


LXVI.— PETER  THE  HERMIT. 

MICHAUD. 

1.  Peter  the  Hermit  traversed  Italy,  crossed  the 
yps,  visited  all  parts  of  France,  and  the  greatest  por- 
tion of  Europe,  inflaming  all  hearts  with  the  same  zeal 
that  consumed  his  own.  He  traveled  mounted  on  a 
mule,  with  a  crucifix  in  his  hand,  his  feet  bare,  his 
head  uncovered,  his  body  girded  with  a  thick  cord, 
covered  with  a  long  frock,  and  a  hermit's  hood  of  the 
coarsest  stuff.  The  singularity  of  his  appearance  was 
a  spectacle  for  the  people,  while  the  austerity  of  his 
manners,  his  charity,  and  the  moral  doctrines  that  he 
preached,  caused  him  to  be  revered  as  a  saint  where- 
ever  he  came. 


352  THE  FIFTH  KEADEB. 

2.  He  went  from  city  to  city,  from  province  to  pro 
vince,  working  upon  the  courage  of  some,  and  upon  the 
piety  of  others ;  sometimes  haranguing  from  the  pul- 
pits of  the  churches,  sometimes  preaching  in  the  high- 
roads or  pliblic  places.  His  eloquence  was  animated 
and  impressive,  and  filled  with  those  vehement  apos- 
trophes which  produce  such  effects  upon  an  unculti- 
vated multitude.  He  described  the  profanation  of  the 
holy  places,  and  the  blood  of  the  Christians  shed  in 
torrents  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem. 

3.  He  invoked  by  turns.  Heaven,  the  saints,  the 
angels,  whom  he  called  upon  to  bear  witness  to  the 
truth  of  what  he  told  them.  He  apostrophized  Mount 
Sion,  the  rock  of  Calvary,  and  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
which  he  made  to  resound  with  sobs  and  groans. 
When  he  had  exhausted  speech  in  painting  the" 
miseries  of  the  faithful,  he  showed  the  spectators  the 
crucifix  which  he  carried  with  him ;  sometimes  striking 
his  breast  and  wounding  his  flesh,  sometimes  shedding 
torrents  of  tears. 

4.  The  people  followed  the  steps  of  Peter  in  crowds. 
The  preacher  of  the  holy  war  was  received  everywhere 
AS  a  messenger  from  God.  They  who  could  touch  his 
vestments  esteemed  themselves  happy,  and  a  portion 
of  hair  p"ulled  from  the  mule  he  rode  was  preserved  as 
a  holy  relic.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  differences  in 
families  were  reconciled,  the  poor  were  comforted,  the 
debauched  blushed  at  their  errors ;  nothing  was  talked 


> 

THE   FIFTH   KE.VDER  353 

of  but  tlie  Tirtues  of  tlie  eloquent  cenobite ;  his  aus- 
terities and  his  miracles  were  described,  and  his  dis- 
courses  were  repeated  to  those  who  had  not  heard 
him,  and  been  edified  by  his  presence. 

5.  He  often  met,  in  his  journeys,  with  Christians 
from  the  East,  who  had  been  banished  from  their 
country,  and  wandered  over  Europe,  subsisting  on 
charity.  Peter  the  Hermit  presented  them  to  the 
people,  as  living  evidences  of  the  barbarity  of  the 
infidels ;  and  pointing  to  the  rags  with  which  they 
were  clothed,  he  burst  into  torrents  of  invectives 
against  their  oppressors  and  persecutors. 

6f  At  the  sight  of  these  miserable  wretches,  the 
faithful  felt,  by  turns,  the  most  lively  emotions  of  pity, 
and  the  fury  of  vengeance  ;  all  deploring  in  their 
hearts  the  miseries  and  the  disgrace  of  Jerusalem. 
The  people  raised  their  voices  toward  heaven,  to 
entreat  God  to  deign  to  cast  a  look  of  pity  upon  his 
beloved  city ;  some  offering  their  riches,  others  their 
prayers,  but  all  promising  to  lay  down  their  lives  for 
the  deUverance  of  the  holy  places. 


LXVn.— THE  BATTLE  OF  HOHENLINDEN,  1800. 

THOMAS   CAMPBELL. 

1.  On  Linden  when  the  sun  was  low. 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 


354  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

2.  But  Linden  saw  another  sight, 
When  the  drum  beat  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 

The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

3.  By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  arrayed. 
Each  warrior  drew  his  battle-blade, 
And  furious  every  charger  neighed, 

To  join  the  dreadful  revelry. 

4u  Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riven. 
Then  rushed  the  steeds  to  battle  driven, 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  heaven 
Far  flashed  the  red  artillery. 

5.  And  redder  yet  those  fires  shall  glow 
On  Linden's  hills  of  blood-stained  snow ; 
And  darker  yet  shall  be  the  flow 

Of  Iser  rolling  rapidly. 

6.  'Tis  morn ;  but  scarce  yon  lurid  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war-clouds,  rolUng  dun, 
While  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun 

Shout  in  their  sulphurous  canopy. 

,    7.  The  combat  deepens.     On,  ye  brave 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave ! 
Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave ! 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry  1 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  355 

T 

8.  All !  few  shall  part  where  many  meet, 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding-sheet, 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 
Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre. 


LXVin.— SONG  OF  THE  GKEEKS,  1822. 

THOMAS  CAMPBELL. 

1.  Again  to  the  battle,  Achaians ! 
Our  hearts  bid  the  tyrants  defiance  ; 

Our  land — the  first  garden  of  Liberty's  tree — 
It  has  been,  and  shall  yet  be,  the  land  of  the  free, 

For  the  cross  of  our  faith  is  replanted, 

The  pale  dying  crescent  is  daunted, 
And  we  march  that  the  foot-prints  of  Mahomet's  slaves 
May  be  washed  out  in  blood  from  our  forefather'^ 
graves. 

Their  spirits  are  hovering  o'er  us. 

And  the  sword  shall  to  glory  restore  us. 

2.  Ah !  what  though  no  succor  advances, 
Nor  Christendom's  chivalrous  lances 

Are  stretched  in  our  aid  ? — Be  the  combat  our  own  I 
And  we'll  perish  or  conquer  more  proudly  alone ; 
For  we've  sworn  by  our  country's  assaulters, 
By  the  virgins  they've  dragged  from  our  altprs, 


356  THE  FIFTH  REAl^R. 

By  our  massacred  patriots,  our  children  in  chains, 
By  our  heroes  of  old,  and  their  blood  in  our  veins, 
That,  living,  we  will  be  victorious, 
Or  that,  dying,  our  deaths  shall  be  glorious. 

3.  A  breath  of  submission  we  breathe  not, 

The  sword  that  we've  drawn  we  will  sheathe  not ; 
Its  scabbard  is  left  where  our  martyrs  are  laid. 
And  the  vengeance  of  ages  has  whetted  its  blade. 

Earth  may  hide,  waves  engulf,  fire  consume  us ; 

But  they  shall  not  to  slavery  doom  us : 
If  they  rule,  it  shall  be  o'er  our  ashes  and  graves — 
But  we've  smote  them  already  with  fire  on  the  toaves, 

And  new  triumphs  on  land  are  before  us ; 

To  the  charge !— ^Eeaven's  banner  is  o'er  us. 

4.  This  day — shall  ye  blush  for  its  story  ? 
Or  brighten  your  lives  with  its  glory  ? 

Our  women — O,  say,  shall  they  shriek  in  despair. 
Or  embrace  us  from  conquest,  with  wreaths  in  their 
hair  ? 
Accursed  may  his  memory  blacken. 
If  a  coward  there  be  that  would  slacken 
Till  we've  trampled  the  turban,  and  shown  ourselves 

worth 
Being  sprung  from,  and  named  for,  the  god-like  of 
earth ! 
Strike  home ! — and  the  world  shall  revere  us 
A.S  heroes  descended  from  heroes. 


TECE  FEPTH  READER.  357 

5.     Old  Greece  lightens  up  with,  emotion 
Her  inlands,  her  isles  of  the  ocean, 

Fanes  rebuilt,  and  fair  towns,  shall  with  jubilee  ring, 

-And  the  Nine  shall  new  hallow  their  Helicon's  spring. 
Our  hearths  shall  be  kindled  in  gladness, 
That  were  cold,  and  extinguished  in  sadness  ; 

\Miilst  our    maidens    shall   dance   with    their    white 
waving  arms, 

Singing  joj  to  the  brave  that  delivered  their  charms, — 
When  the  blood  of  yon  Mussulman  cravens 
Shall  have  crimsoned  the  beaks  of  our  ravens  I 


LXIX.— FALL  OF  WARSAW 

THOMAS   CAMBEIili. 

1.  O !  sacred  Truth  !  thy  triumph  ceased  a  while, 
And  Hope,  thy  sister,  ceased  with  thee  to  smile. 
When  leagued  Oppression  poured  to  Northern  wars 
Her  whiskered  pandoors^  and  her  fierce  hussars 
Waved  her  dread  standard  to  the  breeze  of  morn, 
Pealed  her  loud  drum,   and   twanged^   her    trumpet 

horn  ; 
Tumultuous  horror  brooded  o'er  her  van. 
Presaging  wrath  to  Poland — and  to  man  ! 

2.  Warsaw's  last  champion   from  her  hights   sur- 

veyed 
Wide  o'er  the  fields  a  waste  of  ruin  laid — 
O  Heaven !  he  cried,  my  bleeding  country  save  ! 
Is  there  no  hand  on  high  to  shield  the  brave  ? 


358  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

Yet,  tliougli  destruction  sweep  these  lovely  plains, 
Rise,  fellow-men  !  our  cguntrj  yet  remains  I 
By  that  dread  name,  we  wave  the  sword  on  high, 
And  swear  for  her  to  live  ! — with  her  to  die  ! 

3.  He  said  ;  and  on  the  rampart  hights  arrayed 
His  trusty  warriors,  few,  but  undismayed ; 
Firm  paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form, 
Still  as  the  breeze,  but  dreadful  as  the  storm  : 
Low  murmuring  sounds  along  their  banners  fly, — 
"  Revenge,  or  death  !"  the  watchword  and  reply  ; 
Then  pealed  the  notes,  omnipotent  to  charm, 
And  the  loud  tocsin  tolled  their  last  alarm  I 

4  In  vain,  alas  !  in  vain,  ye  gallant  few ! 
From  rank  to  rank  your  volleyed  thunder  flew  ; — 
O !  bloodiest  picture  in  the  book  of  Time, 
Sarmatia  fell,  unwept,  without  a  crime ; 
Found  not  a  generous  friend,  a  piij'ing  foe, 
Strength  in  her  arms,  nor  mercy  in  her  woe  I 
Dropped  from  her  nerveless  grasp  the  shattered  spear, 
Closed  her  bright  eye,  and  curbed  hsi  high  career ; 
Hope  for  a  season  bade  the  world  farewell, 
And  Freedom  shrieked,  as  Kosciusko  Ml  ? 

O  righteous  Heaven !  ere  Freedom  found  a  gr^^o^ 
Why  slept  the  sword,  omnipotent  to  save  ? 
Where  was  thine  arm,  O  vengeance  !  where  thy  rod. 
That  smote  the  foes  of  Sion  and  of  God  ? 

5.  Departed  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead ! 
Ye  that  at  Marathon  and  Lt-iictra  bled  I 


THE  FIFTH  KEADER.  35S 

Fiiends  of  tlie  world  !  restore  your  swords  to  man. 

Fight  in  his  sacred  cause,  and  lead  the  van  ! 

Yet  for  Sarmatia's  tears  of  blood  atone, 

And  make  her  arm  puissant  as  your  own  ! 

O  !  once  again  to  Freedom's  cause  return 

The  patript  Tell, — the  Bruce  of  Bannockburn  ! 

6.  Yes,  thy  proud  lords,  unpitied  land !  shall  seo 

That  man  hath  yet  a  soul, — and  dare  be  free ! 

A  httle  while,  along  thy  saddening  plains, 

The  starless  night  of  Desolation  reigns ; 

Truth  shall  restore  the  light  by  Nature  given, 

And,  like  Promethus,  bring  the  fire  of  Heaven  I 

Prone  to  the  dust  Oppression  shall  be  hurled. 

Her  name,  her  nature,  withered  from  the  world ! 

•  Pan'-doobs,  a  name  given  to  a  |  2  Twang'-ed,     sounded     with 
kind  of  light  infantry  soldiers  |      quick,  sharp,  noise. 
in  the  Austrian  service. 


LXX.— ST.   PETEB'S. 

EUSTACE. 

1.  From  the  bridge  and  Castle  de  St.  Angelo,  a  wide 
street  conducts  in  a  direct  line  to  a  square,  and  that 
square  presents  at  once  the  court  or  portico,  and  part 
of  the  Basilica.  When  the  spectator  approaches  the 
entrance  of  this  court,  he  views  four  rows  of  lofty 
pillars  sweeping  off  to  the  right  and  left  in  a  bold  semi- 
circle. 

2.  In  the  center  of  the  area  formed  by  tliis  immense 


fJGO  THE  FIFTH  READEB. 

colonnade,  an  Egyptian  obelisk,  of  one  solid  piece  o 
granito,  ascends  to  the  liight  of  one  hundred  and  tliiity 
feet ;  two  perpetual  fountains,  one  on  each  side,  play 
in  the  air,  and  fall  in  sheets  round  the  basins  of  por- 
phyry that  receive  them. 

3.  Before  him,  raised  on  three  successive  flights  ol 
marble  steps,  extending  four  hundred  feet  in  length,  and 
towering  to  the  elevation  of  one  hundred  and  eighty, 
he  beholds  the  majestic  front  of  the  Basilica  itself. 
This  front  is  supported  by  a  single  row  of  Corinthian 
pillars  and  pilasters,  and  adorned  with  an  attic,  a 
balustrade,  and  thirteen  colossal  statues. 

4.  Far  behind  and  above  it,  rises  the  matchless 
Dome,  the  justly  celebrated  wonder  of  Rome  and  of 
the  world.  The  colonnade  of  coupled  pillars  that 
surround  and  strengthen  its  vast  base,  the  graceful 
attic  that  surmounts  this  colonnade,  the  bold  and  ex- 
pansive swell  of  the  dome  itself,  and  the  pyramid 
seated  on  a  cluster  of  columns,  and  bearing  the  ball 
and  cross  to  the  skies,  all  perfect  in  their  kind,  form 
the  most  magnificent  and  singular  exhibition  that  the 
human  eye  perhaps  ever  contemplated.  Two  lesser 
cupolas,  one  on  each  side,  partake  of  the  state,  and  add 
not  a  little  to  the  majesty  of  the  principal  dome. 

5.  The    interior    corresponds    perfectly    with    the 
grandeur  of  the  exterior,  and  fully  answers  the  expec-^ 
tations,  however  great,  which  such  an  approach  must 
naturally  have  raised.     Five  lofty  portals  open  into 


THE   FIFTH    READER.  8G1 

tl  e  portico  or  vestibulum,  a  gallery  in  dimensions  and 
decorations  equal  to  the  most  spacious  cathedrals. 

6.  It  is  four  hundred  feet  in  length,  seventy  in  hight, 
and  fifty  in  breadth,  paved  with  variegated  marble, 
covered  with  a  gilt  vault,  adorned  with  pillars,  pilasters 
mosaic,  and  basso-relievos,  and  terminated  at  both  ends 
by  equestrian  statues,  one  of  Constantine,  the  other  of 
Charlemagne. 

7.  A  fountain  at  each  extremity  suppHes  a  stream 
sufficient  to  keep  a  reservoir  always  full,  in  order  to 
carry  off  every  unseemly  object,  and  perpetually  re« 
fresh  and  purify  the  air  and  the  pavement.  Opposite 
the  five  portals  of  the  vestibule  are  the  five  doors  of 
the  church  ;  three  5-re  adorned  with  pillars  of  the  fines^ 
marble ;  that  in  the  middle  has  valves  of  bronze. 

8.  As  you  enter,  you  behold  the  most  extensive  hall 
ever  constructed  by  human  art,  expanded  in  magni- 
ficent perspective  before  you  :  advancing  up  the  nave, 
you  are  delighted  with  the  beauty  of  the  variegated 
marble  under  your  feet,  and  with  the  splendor  of.  the 
golden  vault  over  your  head.  The  lofty  Corinthian 
pilasters  with  their  bold  entablature,  the  intermediate 
niches  with  their  statues,  the  arcades  with  the  grace- 
ful figures  that  recline  on  the  curves  of  their  arches, 
charm  your  eye  in  succession  as  you  pass  along. 

9.  But  how  great  your  astonishment  when  you  reach 
the  foot  of  the  altar,  and  standing  in  the  center  of  the 
church  contemplate  the  four  superb  vistas  that'  open 


362  THE  FIFTH  BEADER. 

around  you ;  and  tlien  raise  your  eyes  to  the  dome,  al 
the  prodigious  elevation  of  four  hundred  feet,  extended 
like  a  firmament  over  your  nead,  and  presenting,  in 
glowing  mosaic,  the  companies  of  the  just,  the  choirs 
of  celestial  spirits,  and  the  whole  hierarchy  of  heaven 
arrayed  in  the  presence  of  the  Eternal,  whose  "  throne, 
high  raised  above  all  hight,"  crowns  the  awful  scene. 

10.  When  you  have  feasted  your  eye  with  the 
grandeur  of  this  unparalleled  exhibition  in  the  whole, 
you  will  turn  to  the  parts,  the  ornaments,  and  the 
furniture,  which  you  will  find  perfectly  correspond- 
ing with  the  magnificent  form  of  the  temple  itself.* 
Around  the  dome  rise  four  other  cupolas,  small  indeed 
when  compared  to  its  stupendous. magnitude,  but  of 
great  boldness  when  considered  separately  ;  six  more, 
three  on  either  side,  cover  the  different  divisions  of  the 
aisles,  and  six  more  of  greater  dimensions  canopy  as 
many  chapels,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  as  many 
churches. 

IJ^  All  these  inferior  cupolas  are  like  the  grand 
dome  itself,  lined  with  mosaics ;  many,  indeed,  of  the 
master-pieces  of  painting  which  formerly  graced  this 
edifice,  have  been  removed  and  replaced  by  mosaics 
which  retain  all  the  tints  and  beauties  of  the  originals, 
impressed  on  a  more  solid  and  durable  substance. 
The  aisles  and  altars  are  adorned  with  numberl^s 
antique  pillars,  that  border  the  church  all  around,  and 
form  a  secondary  and  subservient  order. 


THE   FIFTH   liEADEE.  3G3 

12.  The  variegated  walls  are,  in  many  places, 
ornamented  with  festoons,  wreatlis,  angels,  tiaras, 
crosses,  and  medallions  representing  the  effigies  of 
different  pontiffs.  These  decorations  are  oi  the  most 
beautiful  and  rarest  species  of  marble,  and  often  of 
excellent  workmanship.  Various  monuments  rise  in 
different  parts  of  the  church ;  but,  in  their  size  and 
accompaniments,  so  much  attention  has  been  paid  to 
general  as  well  as  local  effect,  that  they  appear  rathei 
as  parts  of  the  original  plan,  than  posterior  additions. 
Some  of  these  are  much  admired  for  their  groups  and 
exquisite  sculpture,  and  form  very  conspicuous  features 
in  the  ornamental  part  of  this  noble  temple. 

13.  The  high  altar  stands  under  the  dome,  and  thus 
as  it  is  the  most  important,  so  it  becomes  the  most 
striking  object.  In  order  to  add  to  its  relief  and  give 
it  all  its  majesty,  according  to  the  ancient  custom  still 
retained  in  the  patriarchal  churches  at  Eome,  and  in 
most  of  the  cathedrals  in  Italy,  a  lofty  canopy  rises 
above  it,  and  forms  an  intermediate  break  or  repose 
for  the  eye  between  it  and  the  immensity  of  the  dome 
above. 

14.  The  form,  materials,  and  magnitude  of  this  dec- 
oration are  equally  astonishing.  Below  the  steps  of 
the  altar,  and  of  course  some  distance  from  it,  at  the 
corners,  on  four  masive  pedestals,  rise  four  twisted 
pillars  fifty  feet  in  hight,  and  support  an  entablature 
which  bears  the  canopy  itself  topped  with  a  cross. 


S64  THE  FIFTH   RF.ADER. 

The  whole  soars  to  the  elevation  of  one  hundred  and 
thirtj-two  feet  from  the  pavement,  and,  excepting  the 
pedestals,  is  of  Corinthian  brass ;  the  most  lofty  mas- 
sive work  of  that,  or  of  any  other  metal,  now  known. 

15.  But  this  brazen  edifice,  for  so  it  may  be  called, 
notwithstanding  its  magnitude,  is  so  disposed  as  not 
to  obstruct  the  view  by  concealing  the  chancel  and 
veiling  the  Cathedra  or  Chair  of  St.  Peter.  This 
ornament  is  also  of  bronze,  and  consists  of  a  group  of 
four  gigantic  figures,  representing  the  four  principal 
Doctors  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  churches,  supporting 
the  patriarchal  chair  of  St.  Peter.  The  chair  is  a  lofty 
throne,  elevated  to  the  hight  of  seventy  feet  from 
the  pavement;  a  circular  window  tinged  with  yellow 
throws  from  above  a  mild  splendor  around  it,  so  that 
the  whole  not  unfitly  represents  the  pre-eminence  of 
the  Apostolic  See,  and  is  acknowledged  to  form  a  most 
becoming  and  majestic  termination  to  the  first  of 
Christian  temples. 


LXXL— ST.  PETER'S  CHUECH  AT  ROME. 


1.  But  lo  !  the  dome  ! — the  vast  and  wondrous  dome> 
To  which  Diana's  marvel  was  a  cell — 
Christ's  mighty  shrine,  above  his  martyrs'  tomb  I 
I  have  beheld  the  Ephesian  miracle — 
Its  columns  strew  the  wilderness,  and  dwell 


THE  FIFTH  READEB,  365 

The  hjsena  and  jackal  iu  their  shade  ; 
I  have  beheld  Sophia's  bright  roofs  swell 
Their  glittering  mass  i'  the  sun,  and  have  surveyed 
Its  sanctuary,  the  while  th'  usurping  Moslem  prayed. 

2.  But  thou,  of  temples  old,  or  altars  new, 
Standest  alone,  with  nothing  like  to  thee  ; 
"Worthiest  of  God,  the  holy  and  the  true, 
Since  Sion's  desolation,  when  that  He 
Forsook  his  former  city,  what  could  be 
Of  earthly  structures,  in  his  honor  piled, 
Of  a  sublimer  aspect  ?     Majesty, 

Power,  Glory,  Strength,  and  Beauty,  all  are  aisled 
In  this  eternal  ark  of  worship  undefiled. 

3.  Enter  :  its  grandeur  overwhelms  thee  not : 
And  why  ?     It  is  not  lessened ;  but  the  mind, 
Expanded  by  the  genius  of  the  spot. 

Has  grown  colossal,  and  can  only  find 
A  fit  abode,  wherein  appear  enshrined 
Thy  hopes  of  immortality  ;  and  thou 
Shalt  one  day,  if  found  worthy,  so  defined, 
See  thy  God  face  to  face,  as  thou  dost  now 
His  Holy  of  Hohes,  nor  be  blasted  by  his  brow. 

4.  Thou  movest,  but  increasing  with  the  advance, 
Like  cUmbing  some  great  Alp,  which  still  doth  rise, 
Dectuved  by  his  gigantic  elegance  : 

Vastness  which  grows— but  grows  to  harmonize — 


3G6  THE  FIFT?  BEADER. 

All  musical  in  its  immensities  ; 

Kicli  marbles — richer  painting — shrines  where  flame 
The  lamps  of  gold — and  haughty  dome,  which  vies 
In  air,  with  earth's  chief  structures,  though  their 

frame 
Sits  on  the  firm-set  ground  and  this  the  clouds  must 

claim. 

6.  Thou  seest  not  all ;  but  piecemeal  thou  must  break 
To  separate  contemplation,  the  great  whole  : 
And,  as  the  ocean  many  bays  will  make, 
That  ask  the  eye — so  here  condense  thy  soul 
To  more  immediate  objects,  and  control 
Thy  thoughts,  until  thy  mind  hath  got  by  heart, 
Its  eloquent  proportions,  and  unroll 
In  mighty  graduations,  part  by  part, 

The  glory  which  at  once  upon  thee  did  not  dart. 

6.  Not  by  its  fault — ^but  thine  :  our  outward  sense 
Is  but  of  gradual  grasp — and,  as  it  is, 
That  what  we  have  of  feeling  most  intense 
Outstrips  our  faint  expression  ;  even  so  this 
Outshining  and  o'erwhelming  edifice 
Fools  ^ur  fond  gaze,  and,  greatest  of  the  great, 
Defies,  at  first,  our  nature's  Httleness  ; 
Till,  growing  with  its  growth,  we  thus  dilate 

Our  spirits  to  the  size  of  that  they  contemplate. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  367 

7.  Then  pause,  and  be  enlightened ;  there  is  more 
In  such  a  survey  than  the  sating  gaze 
Of  wonder  pleased,  or  awe,  which  would  adore 
The  worship  of  the  place,  or  the  mere  praise 
Of  art,  and  its  great  niasters,  who  could  raise 
What  former  time,  nor  skill,  nor  thought  could  plan. 
The  fountain  of  sublimity  displays 
Its  depth,  and  thence  may  draw  the  mind  of  man 

Its  golden  sands,  and  learn  what  great  conceptions 
can. 


LXXIL— THE  PYEAMTDS. 

CliAEKE. 

1.  We  were  roused,  as  soon  as  the « sun  dawned,  b> 
Anthony,  our  faichfuL  Greek  servant  and  interpreter, 
with  the  intelligence  that  the  pyramids  were  in  view. 
We  hastened  from  the  cabin ;  and  never  will  the  im- 
pression made  by  their  appearance  be  obliterated.  By 
reflecting  the  sun's  rays,  they  appear  as  white  as  snow, 
and  of  such  surprising  magnitude,  that  nothing  we 
had  previously  conceived  in  our  imagination  had 
prepared  us  for  the  spectacle  we  beheld. 

2.  The  sight  instantly  convinced  us,  that  no  power 
of  description,  no  delineation,  can  convey  ideas 
adequate  to  the  effect  produced  in  viewing  these 
stupendous  mountains.  The  formality  of  their  con- 
struction is  lost  in  their  prodigious  magnitude  ;  the 
mind,  elevated  by  wonder,  feels  at  once  the  force  of  an 


368  THE  FIFTH  READER, 

• 

axiom,  which,  however  disputed,  experience  confirms, 
that  in  vastness,  whatever  be  its  nature,  there  dwells 
sublimity.  Another  proof  of  their  indescribable  power 
is,  that  no  one  ever  approached  them  .under  other 
emotions  than  those  of  terror,  which  is  another  princi 
pal  source  of  the  sublime. 

3.  In  certain  instances  of  irritable  feeling,  tho 
impression  of  awe  and  fear  has  been  so  great  as  to 
cause  pain  rather  than  pleasure ;  hence,  perhaps,  have 
originated  descriptions  of  the  pyramids  which  repre- 
sent them  as  deformed  and  gloomy  masses,  without 
taste  or  beauty.  Persons  who  have  derived  no  satis- 
faction from  the  contemplation  of  them,  may  not  have 
been  conscious  that  the  uneasiness  they  experienced 
was  the  result  of  their  own  sensibility.  Others  have 
acknowledged  ideas  widely  different,  excited  by  every 
wonderful  circumstance  of  character  and  situation; 
ideas  of  duration,  almost  endless ;  of  power  incon- 
ceivable; of  majesty  supreme;  of  solitude,  most 
awful ;  of    grandeur,  and  of  repose. 

*  *  *  * 

4.  With  what  amazement  did  we  survey  the  vast 
surface  that  was  presented  to  us  when  we  arrived  at 
this  stupendous  monument,  which  seemed  to  reach 
the  clouds?  Here  and  there  appeared  some  Arab 
guides  upon  the  immense  masses  above  us,  like  so 
many  pigmies,  waiting  to  show  the  way  to  the  summit. 
Now    and    then   we   thought   we    heard    voices,  mv} 


THE  FIFTH   KEADER.  369 

listened;  but  it  was  the  wind  in  powerful  gusts  sweep- 
ing the  immense  ranges  of  stone. 

5.  Already  some  of  our  party  had  begun  the  ascent, 
and  were  pausing  at  the  tremendous  depth  which  they 
saw  below.  One  of  our  military  companions,  after 
having  surmounted  the  most  difficult  part  of  the 
undertaking,  became  giddy  in  consequence  of  looking 
down  from  the  elevation  he  had  attained  :  and  being 
compelled  to  abandon  the  project,  he  hired  an  Arab  to 
assist  him  in  effecting  his  descent.  The  rest  of  ua, 
more  accustomed  to  the  business  of  climbing  hights, 
with  many  a  halt  for  respiration,  and  many  an  ex- 
clamation of  wonder,  pursued  our  way  toward  the 
summit.  The  mode  of  ascent  has  been  frequently 
described  ;  and  yet,  from  the  questions  which  are  often 
proposed  to  travelers,  it  does  not  appear  to  be  gener- 
ally understood. . 

6.  The  reader  may  imagine  himself  to  be  upon  a 
staircase,  every  step  of  which,  to  a  man  of  middle 
stature,  is  nearly  breast  high ;  and  the  breadth  of  each 
step  is  equal  to  its  hight ;  consequently,  the  footing  is 
secure ;  and,  although  a  retrospect,  in  going  up,  be 
sometimes  fearful  to  persons  unaccustomed  to  look 
down  from  any  considerable  elevation,  yet  there  is  little 
danger  of  falling.  In  some  places,  indeed,  where  the 
stones  are  decayed,  caution  may  be  required  ;  and  an 
Arab  guide  is  always  necessary,  to  avoid  a  total  in 


370  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

teiTuption;  but,  upon  the  whole,  the  means  of  ascent 
ire  such  that  almost  every  one  may  accompHsh  it. 

7.  Our  progress  was  impeded  by  other  causes.  AVe 
carried  with  us  a  few  instruments,  such  as  our  boat- 
compass,  a  thermometer,  a  telescope,  etc. ;  these  could 
not  be  trusted  in  the  hands  of  the  Arabs,  and  they 
were  liable  to  be  broken  every  instant.  At  length  we 
reached  the  topmost  tier,  to  the  great  delight  and 
satisfaction  of  all  the  party.  Here  we  found  a  plat- 
form, thirty-two  feet  square,  consisting  of  nine  large 
stones,  each  of  which  might  weigh  about  a  ton ;  al- 
though they  are  much  inferior  in  size  to  some  of  the 
stones  used  in  the  construction  of  this  pyramid. 

8.  Travelers  of  all  ages,  and  various  nations,  have 
here  inscribed  their  names.  Some  are  written  in 
Greek,  many  in  French,  a  few  in  Arabic,  one  or  two 
in  English,  and  others  in  Latin.  We  were  as  desirous 
as  our  predecessors  to  leave  a  memorial  of  our  arrival ; 
it  seemed  to  be  a  tribute  of  thankfulness  due  for  the 
success  of  our  undertaking ;  and  presently  every  one 
of  our  party  was  seen  busied  in  aclding  the  inscription 
of  his  name. 


LXXni.— THE  FOREST. 

BBYANT. 

h  Father  Thy  hand 

Hath  reared  these  venerable  columns ;  Thou 
Didst  weave  this  verdant  roof  ;  Thou  didst  look  down 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  371 

Upon  the  naked  earth,  and  forthwith  rose 
All  these  fair  ranks  of  trees.     They,  in  thy  sun 
Budded,  and  shook  their  green  leaves  in  Thy  breeze. 
And  shot  toward  heaven. 

2.  The  century-living  crow. 

Whose  birth  was  in  their  tops,  grew  old  and  died 
Among  their  branches  ;  till,  at  last,  they  stood, 
As  now  they  stand,  massy  and  tall  and  dark, 
Fit  shrine  for  humble  worshiper  to  hold 
Communion  with  his  Maker.     These  dim  vaults. 
These  winding  aisles  of  human  pomp  or  pride, 
Report  not. 

^.  No  fantastic  carvings  show 

The  boast  of  our  vain  race  to  change  the  form 
Of  Thy  fair  works ;  but  Thou  art  here  :  Thou  fiU'st 
The  solitude :  Thou  art  in  the  soft  winds 
That  run  along  the  summit  of  these  trees 
In  music :  Thou  art  in  the  cooler  breath 
That  from  the  inmost  darkness  of  the  place. 
Comes  scarcely  felt :  the  barks,  the  ground. 
The  fresh  moist  ground,  are  all  instinct  with  Thee 

4.  Here  is  continual  worship  ;  nature,  here. 
In  the  tranquillity  that  Thou  dost  love. 
Enjoys  Thy  presence.     Noiselessly,  around. 
From  perch  to  perch,  the  solitary  bird 
Passes ;  and  yon  clear  spring,  that,  midst  its  herbs, 


372  THE  FIFTH  KEADER. 

Wells  softly  forth,  and  visits  the  strong  roots 
Of  half  the  mighty  forest,  tells  no  tale 
Of  all  the  good  it  does. 

5.  Thou  hast  not  left 
Thyself  without  a  witness,  in  these  shades, 

Of  Thy  perfections ;  grandeur,  strength  and  grace 

Are  here  to  speak  of  Thee.     This  mighty  oak, 

By  whose  immovable  stem  I  stand  and  seem 

Almost  annihilated, — not  a  prince. 

In  aU  that  proud  old  world  beyond  the  deep, 

E'er  wore  his  crown  as  loftily  as  he 

Wears  the  green  coronal  of  leaves  with  which 

Thy  hand  has  graced  him. 

6.  Nestled  at  his  root 
Is  beauty,  such  as  blooms  not  in  the  glare 
Of  the  broad  sun.     That  delicate  flower. 
With  scented  breath,  and  look  so  like  a  smile. 
Seems  as  it  issues  from  the  shapeless  mold, 
An  emanation  of  the  indwelling  Life, 

A  visible  token  of  the  upholding  Love, 
That  are  the  soul  of  this  wide  universe. 

7.  My  heart  is  awed  within  me,  when  I  think 
Of  the  great  miracle  that  still  goes  on. 

In  silence,  round  me  :  the  perpetual  wor]? 
Of  Thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 
For  ever. 


THE  FIFTH  EEADER.  373 

LXXrV.— CATHOLIC  MISSIONS  IN  THE  NORTHWEST. 

BANCBOirr. 

George  Bancroft  was  bom  at  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  October  3, 
1800.  His  History  of  the  United  Sates,  of  which  nine  volumes  have 
ul ready  appeared,  is  recognized  as  a  work  of  great  fairness,  ability 
and  research. 

1.  Keligious  zeal  not  less  than  commercial  ambition 
had  influenced  France  to  recover  Canada ;  and  Cham- 
plain,  its  governor,  whose  imperishable  name  will  rival 
with  posterity  the  fame  of  Smith  and  Hudson,  ever 
disinterested  and  compassionate,  full  of  honor  and 
probity,  of  ardent  devotion  and  burning  zeal,  esteemed 
"  the  salvation  of  a  soul  worth  more  than  the  conquest 
of  an  empire." 

2.  Thus  it  was  neither  commercial  enterprise  nor 
royal  ambition  which  carried  the  power  of  France  into 
the  heart  of  our  Continent ;  the  motive  was  religion. 
Religious  enthusiasm  founded  Montreal,  made  a  con- 
quest of  the  wilderness  of  the  upper  lakes,  and  ex- 
plored the  Mississippi.  The  Roman  (Catholic)  Church 
created  for  Canada  its  altars,  its  hospitals,  and  its 
seminaries.  .  .  .  The  first  permanent  efforts  of  French 
enterprise  in  colonizing  America  preceded  any  per- 
manent EngUsh  settlement  on  the  Potomac. 

8.  Years  before  the  pilgrims  landed  in  Cape  Cod, 
the  Roman  f  Catholic)  Church  had  been  planted,  by 
missionaries  from  France,  in  the  eastern  moiety  of 
Maine;  and  Le  Caron,  an  unambitious  Franciscan, 
had  penetrated  tho  land  of  the  Mohawks,  had  passed 


374  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

to  the  north  of  the  hunting-grounds  of  the  "Wyandota, 
and  bound  by  his  vows  to  the  life  of  a  beggar,  had,  on 
foot,  or  paddling  a  bark  canoe,  gone  onward,  and  still 
ouward,  taking  alms  of  the  savages,  till  he  reached  the 
rivers  of  Lake  Huron. 

4.  While  Quebec  contained  scarcely  fifty  inhabitants 
priests  of  the  Franciscan  Order-  -Le  Caron,  Fiel, 
Lagard — ^had  labored  for  years  as  missionaries  in 
Upper  Canada,  or  made  their  way  to  the  neutral 
Huron  tribe  that  dwelt  on  the  waters  of  the  Niagara. 

5.  To  confirm  the  missions,  the  first  measure  was 
the  estabhshment  of  a  college  in  New  France,  and  the 
parents  of  the  Marquis  de  Gamache,  pleased  with  his 
pious  importunity,  assented  to  his  entering  the  Order 
of  the  Jesuits,  and  added  from  their  ample  fortunes 
the  means  of  endowing  a  Seminary  for  education  at 
Quebec.  Its  foundation  was  laid,  under  happy  aus- 
pices, in  1635,  just  before  Champlain  passed  from 
among  the  living ;  and  two  years  before  the  emigra- 
tion of  John  Harvard,  and  one  year  before  the  General 
Court  of  Massach'isetts  had  made  provisions  for  a 
College. 

6.  The  fires  of  charity  were  at  the  same  time  en- 
kindled. The  Duchess  D'Aguillon,  aided  by  her  uncle, 
the  Cardinal  Richeheu,  endowed  a  public  hospital 
dedicated  to  the  Son  of  God,  whose  blood  was  shed  in 
mercy  for  all  mankind.  Its  doors  were  opened,  not 
oiily  to  the  sufferers  among  the  emigrants,  but  to  the 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  375 

maimecl,  the  sick,  and  the  blmcl,  of  any  of  the  nu- 
merous tribes  between  the  Kennebec  and  Lake  Su- 
perior ;  it  relieved  misfortune  without  asking  its 
lineage.  From  the  hospital  nuns  of  Dieppe,  three  were 
selected,  the  youngest  but  twenty-two,  to  brave  the 
famine  and  rigors  of  Canada  in  their  patient  mission  of 
benevolence. 

7.  The  same  religious  enthusiasm,  inspiring  Ma- 
dame de  la  Peltier,  a  young  and  opulent  widow  pf 
A.len9on,  with  the  aid  of  a  nun  of  Dieppe  and  two 
others  from  Tours,  established  the  Ursuline    Convent 

for  girls Is  it  wonderful  that  the  natives  were 

touched  by  a  benevolence  which  their  poverty  and 
squalid  misery  could  not  appall?  Their  education 
was  attempted ;  and  the  venerable  ash-tree  still  lives 
beneath  which  Mary  of  the  Incarnation,  so  famed  for 
chastened  piety,  genius,  and  good  judgment  toiled, 
though  in  vain,  for  the  education  of  the  Huron 
children. 

8.  The  life  of  the  missionary  on  Lake  Huron  was 
simple  and  uniform.  The  earliest  hours,  from  four  to 
eight,  were  absorbed  in  private  prayer.  The  day  was 
given  to  schools,  visits,  instructions  in  the  catecliism, 
and  a  service  for  proselytes.  Sometimes,  after  the 
manner  of  St.  Francis  Xavier,  Brebeuf  would  walk 
through  the  village  and  its  environs  ringing  a  little 
bell,  and  inviting  the  Huron  braves  and  counsellers  to 
a  conference.     There,  under  the  shady  forest,  the  most 


376  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

solemn  mysteries  of  the  Catholic  faith  were  subject  to 
discussion. 

9.  Yet  the  efforts  of  the  Jesuits  were  not  limited  to 
the  Huron  race.  Within  thirteen  years,  the  remote 
wilderness  was  visited  by  forty-two  missionaries,  mem- 
bers of  the  Society  of  Jesus,  besides  eighteen  others, 
who,  if  not  initiated,  were  yet  chosen  men,  ready  to 
shed  their  blood  for  their  faith.  Twice  or  thrice  a 
ye&T  they  all  assembled  at  St.  Mary's  ;  during  the  rest 
of  the  time  they  were  scattered  through  the  infidel 
tribes. 

10.  The  first  missionaries  among  the  Hurons— 
Fathers  De  Brebeuf,  Daniel,  and  Lallemand — all  fell 

glorious  martyrs  to  their  devoted  zeal Father 

Keymbault  soon  after  fell  a  victim  to  the  climate,  and 
died  in  Quebec  (1642).  His  associate,  Father  Jogues, 
who  with  him  had  first  planted  the  cross  in  Michigan, 
was  reserved  for  a  still  more  disastrous,  though 
glorious,  fate.  He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  fierce 
Mohawks,  and  was  made  to  run  the  gauntlet  at  three 
different  Mohawk  villages. 

11.  For  days  and  nights  he  was  abandoned  to 
hunger  and  every  torment  which  petulant  youth  could 
contrive.  But  yet  there  was  consolation ; — an  ear  of 
Indian  corn  on  the  stalk  was  thrown  to  the  good 
Father ;  and  see,  to  the  broad  blade  there  clung  little 
drops  of  dew,  or  of  water — enough  to  baptize  two 
taptive  neophytes.     He  had  expected   death  ;  but  tho 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  377 


IIMohawks,  satisfied,  perhaps,  with  his  sufferings,  oi 
awed  at  his  sanctity,  spared  his  hfe,  and  his  libertv 
was  enlarged. 
12.  On  a  hill  apart,  he  carved  a  long  cross  on  a  tree  • 
and  there,  in  the  solitude,  meditated  the  Imitation  of 
Christ,  and  soothed  his  griefs  by  reflecting  that  he 
alone,  in  that  vast  region,  adored  the  true  God  of 
earth  and  heaven.  Eoaming  through  the  stately 
forests  of  the  Mohawk  valley,  he  wrote  the  name  of 
Jesus  on  the  bark  of  trees,  engraved  the  cross,  and 
entered  into  possession  of  these  countries  in  the  name 
of  God — often  Hfting  up  his  voice  in  a  solitary  chant. 
Thus  did  France  bring  its  banner  and  its  faith  to  the 
confines  of  Albany.  The  missionary  himself  was 
humanely  ransomed  from  captivity  by  the  Dutch,  and 
saiHng  for  France,  soon  returned  to  Canada. 

13.  Similar  was  the  fate  of  Father  Bressani.  Taken 
prisoner  while  on  his  way  to  the  Hurons;  beaten, 
mangled,  mutilated ;  driven  barefoot  over  rough  paths, 
through  briers  and  thickets;  scourged  by  a  whole 
village  ;  burned,  tdrtured,  wounded,  and  scarred  ; — he 
was  an  eye-witness  to  the  fate  of  one  of  his  com- 
panions, who  was  boiled  and  eaten.  Yet  some  mys- 
terious awe  protected  his  life,  and  he,  too,  was  hu- 
manely rescued  by  the  Dutch. 


378  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

LXXV. -CATHOLIC  MISSIONS. —Continued. 

1.  In  1655,  Fathers  Chaumont  and  Dablon  wer* 
sent  on  a  mission  among  the  tribes  of  New  York. 
They  were  hospitably  welcomed  at  Onondaga,  the 
principal  village  of  that  tribe.  A  general  convention 
was  held  at  their  desire  ;  and  before  the  multitudinous 
assembly  of  the  chiefs  and  the  whole  people  gathered 
under  the  open  sky,  among  the  primeval  forests,  the 
presents  were  delivered ;  and  the  Italian  Jesuit,  with 
much  gesture  after  the  Italian  manner,  discoursed  so 
eloquently  to  the  crowd,  that  it  seemed  to  Dablon  as 
if  the  word  of  God  had  been  preached  to  all  the 
nations  of  that  land.  On  the  next  day,  the  chiefs  and 
others  crowded  round  the  Jesuits  with  their  songs  of 
welcome. 

2.  "  Happy  land,"  they  sang,  "  happy  land,  in  which 
the  Jesuits  are  to  dwell !"  and  the  chief  led  the  chorus, 
"  Glad  tidings !  glad  tidings  !  It  is  well  that  we  have 
spoken  together :  it  is  well  that  we  have  a  heavenly 
message."  At  once  a  chapel  sprung  into  existence, 
and  by  the  zeal  of  the  nation  was  finished  in  a 
day.  "For  marble  and  precious  stones,"  writes 
Dablon,  "  we  employed  only  bark ;  but  the  path  to 
heaven  is  as  open  through  a  roof  of  bark  as  through 
arched  ceiliugs  of  silver  and  gold."  The  savages 
showed  themselves  susceptible  of  the  excitements  of 
religious  ecstasy  ;  and  there,  in  the  heart  of  New  York, 
the  solemn  services  of  the  Roman  (Catholic)  Church 


k 


THE  PTFTH   READER.  379 


were  clia.i*«?a  as  securely  as  in  any  part  of  Christen 
dom. 

3.  The  Caj  agas  also  desired  a  missionary,  and  they 
received  the  fearless  Eene  Mesnard.  In  their  village  a 
chapel  was  erected,  with  mats  for  the  tapestry ;  and 
there  the  pictures  of  the  Saviour  and  of  the  Virgin 
Mother  were  unfolded  to  the  admiring  children  of  the 
wilderness.  The  Oneidas  also  listened  to  the  mis- 
sionary ;  and  early  in  1657,  Chaumont  reached  the 
most  fertile  and  densely  peopled  lands  of  the  Senecas. 

The  Jesuit  priests  published  their  faith  from 

the  Mohawk  to   the   Genesee The   Missions 

stretched  westward  along  Lake  Superior  to  the  waters 
of  the  Mississippi.  Two  young  fur-traders,  having 
traveled  to  the  West  five  hundred  leagues,  returned  in 
1656,  attended  by  a  number  of  savages  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley,  who  demanded  missionaries  for  their 
country. 

4.  Their  request  was  eagerly  granted ;  and  Gabriel 
Dreuillettes,  the  same  who  carried  the  cross  through 
the  forests  of  Maine,  and  Leonard  Gareau,  of  old  a 
missionary  among  the  Hurons,  were  selected  as  the 
first  religious  envoys  to  a  land  of  sacrifices,  shadows, 
and  deaths.  The  canoes  are  launched;  the  tawny 
warriors  embark  ;  the  oars  flash,  and  words  of  triumph 
and  joy  mingle  with  th^ir  last  adieus.  But  just  below 
Montreal,  a  band  of  M  >hawks,  enemies  to  the  Ottawas. 


380  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

awaited  the  convoy  :  in  the  affray  Gareau  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  the  fleet  dispersed. 

5.  But  the  Jesuits  were  still  fired  with  zeal  to  carry 

the  cross  westward "If  the  Five  Nations." 

they  said,  "  can  penetrate  these  regions,  to  satiate  their 
passion  for  blood ;  if  mercantile  enterprise  can  bring 
furs  from  the  plains  of  the  Sioux;  why  cannot  the 

cross  be  borne  to  their  cabins!" The  zeal  of 

Francis  de  Laval,  the  Bishop  of  Quebec,  kindled  with 
a  desii-e  himself  to  enter  on  the  mission ;  but  the  lot 
fell  to  Bene  Mesnard.  He  was  charged  to  visit  Green 
Bay  and  Lake  Superior,  and  on  a  convenient  inlet  to 
estabhsh  a  residence  as  a  common  place  of  assembly 
for  the  surrounding  nations. 

6.  EQs  departure  was  immediate  (a.  D.  1660),  and 
with  few  preparations ;  for  he  trusted — such  are  his 
words — "  in  the  Providence  which  feeds  the  little  birds 
of  the  desert,  and  clothes  the  wild  flowers  of  the 
forests."  Every  personal  motive  seemed  to  retain  him 
in  Quebec  ;  but  powerful  instincts  impelled  him  to  the 
enterprise.  Obedient  to  his  vows,  the  aged  man  en- 
tered on  the  path  that  was  red  with  the  blood  of  his 
predecessors,  and  made  haste  to  scatter  the  seeds  of 
truth  through  the  wilderness,  even  though  the  sower 
cast  his  seed  in  weeping.  "  In  three  of  four  months," 
he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  you  may  add  me  to  the  memento 
of  deaths." 

7.  His    prediction   was  verified.      Several   montlid 


I 


THE    FIFTH    HEADER.  381 


after,  while  his  attendant  was  employed  in  the  labor 
of  transporting  the  canoe,  he  was  lost  in  the  forest,  and 
never  seen  more.     Long  afterward,  his  cassock  and 

breviary  were  kept  as  amulets  among  the  Sioux 

Similar  was  the  death  of  the  great  Father  Marquette, 
the  discoverer  of  the  Mississippi.  Joliet  returned  to 
Quebec  to  announce  the  discovery The  un- 
aspiring Marquette  remained  to  preach  the  gospel  to 
the  Miamis,  who  dwelt  in  the  north  of  Illinois  around 
Chicago.  Two  years  afterwards  (a.  d.  1675),  sailing 
from  Chicago  to  Mackinaw,  he  entered  a  little  river  in 
Michigan 

8.  Erecting  an  altar,  he  said  Mass  after  the  rites  of 
the  Cathohc  Church ;  then,  begging  the  men  who  con- 
ducted his  canoe  to  leave  him  alone  for  a  half  hour, 

"In  the  darkling  wood, 
Amid  the  cool  and  silence,  he  knelt  down 
And  offered  to  the  Mightiest  solemn  thanks 
And  snpphcation." 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  they  went  to  seek  him,  and 
he  was  no  more.  The  good  missionary,  discoverer  of 
a  new  world,  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  margin  of  the 
stream  which  bears  his  name.  Near  its  mouth  the 
canoe  men  dug  his  grave  in  the  sand.  Ever  after,  the 
forest  rangers,  if  in  danger  on  Lake  Michigan,  would 
invoke  his  name.  The  people  of  the  West  will  build 
his  monument. 


382  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

LXXVL— THE  HEKOES  OF  SEVENTY-SIX. 

BBYANT. 

1.  What  heroes  from  the  woodland  sprung, 

When,  through  the  fresh-awakened  land, 
The  thrilling  cry  of  freedom  rung. 
And  to  the  work  of  warfare  strung 

The  yeoman's  iron  hand ! 

2.  Hills  flung  the  cry  to  hills  around ; 

And  ocean-mart  replied  to  mart ; 
And  streams,  whose  springs  were  yet  unfound, 
Pealed  far  away  the  startling  sound 

Into  the  forest's  heart. 

3.  Then  marched  the  brave  from  rocky  steep, 

From  mountain  river  swift  and  cold ; 
The  borders  of  the  stormy  deep. 
The  vales  where  gathered  waters  sleep, 

Sent  up  the  strong  and  bold. 

4.  As  if  the  very  earth  again 

Grew  quick  with  God's  creating  breath, 
And,  from  the  sods  of  grove  and  glen, 
Eose  ranks  of  iron-hearted  men, 

To  battle  to  the  death. 

5.  The  wife,  whose  babe  first  smiled  that  day, 

The  fair  fond  bride  of  yester-eve, 
And  aged  sire  and  matron  gray. 
Saw  the  loved  warriors  haste  away, 

And  deemed  it  sin  to  grieve. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  38S 

6.  Already  had  tlie  strife  begun ; 

Already  blood  on  Concord's  plain 
Along  the  springing  grass  had  run, 
And  blood  had  flowed  at  Lexington, 

Like  brook  of  April  rain. 

7.  That  death-stain  on  the  vernal  sward 

Hallowed  to  freedom  all  the  shore ; 
In  fragpaents  fell  the  yoke  abhorred — 
The  footstep  of  a  foreign  lord 

Profaned  the  soil  no  more. 


LXXVII.— THE  MUTINT,  SIGHT  OP  LAND,  El  a 

EOGEKS. 

1.  All  melt  in  tears !  but  what  can  tears  avail  ? 
These  climb  the  mast,  and  shift  the  swelling  sail. 
These  snatch  the  helm  ;  and  round  me  now  I  hear 
Smiting  of  hands,  outcries  of  grief  and  fear, 
(That  in  the  aisles  at  midnight  haunt  me  still. 
Turning  my  lonely  thoughts  from  good  to  ill.) 

"  "Were  there  no  graves — none  in  our  land,"  they  cry 
"  That  thou  hast  brought  us  on  the  deep  to  die  ?" 

2.  Silent  with  sorrow,  long  within  his  cloak 
His  face  he  muffled — then  the  Hero  spoke  : 

"  Generous  and  brave  !  *Vhen  God  himself  is  here 
"Why  shake  at  shadows  in  your  mad  career  ? 
He  can  suspend  the  laws  himself  designed, 
He  walks  the  waters,  and  the  winged  wind ; 


884  THE  FTPTH  EEADER. 

Himself  your  guide  !  and  yours  tiie  high  behest, 

To  lift  your  voice,  and  bid  a  world  be  blest ! 

And  can  you  shrink  ? — to  you,  to  you  consigned 

The  glorious  privilege  to  serve  mankind  ! 

Oh  had  I  perished,  when  my  failing  frame 

Clung  to  the  shattered  oar  'mid  wrecks  of  flame  \ 

— Was  it  for  this  I  Hngered  life  away, 

The  scorn  of  Folly,  and  of  Fraud  the  prey  ; ' 

Bowed  down  my  mind,  the  gift  His  bounty  gave, 

A-t  courts  a  suitor,  and  to  slaves  a  slave  ? 

— Yet  in  His  name  whom  only  we  should  fear, 

('Tis  all,  all  I  shall  ask,  or  you  shall  hear,) 

Grant  but  three  days." — He  spoke  not  uninspired 

And  each  in  silence  to  his  watch  retired. 

B  Although  among  us  came  an  unknown  Voice  ! 
"  Go,  if  ye  will ;  and,  if  ye  can,  rejoice  : 
Go,  with  unbidden  guests  the  banquet  share  ; 
In  his  own  shape  shall  Death  receive  you  there/' 
Twice  in  the  zenith  blazed  the  orb  of  light ; 
No  shade,  all  sun,  insufferably  bright ! 
Then  the  long  hne  found  rest — in  coral  groves. 
Silent  and  dark,  where  the  sea-lion  roves  : — 
And  all  on  deck,  kindhng  to  life  again, 
Sent  forth  theii  anxious  spirits  o'er  the  main." 

L  "  Oh  whence,  as  wafted  fr6m  Elysium,  whence 
These  perfumes,  strangers  to  the  raptured  sense ': 
These  boughs  of  gold,  and  fruits  of  heavenly  hue. 
Tinging  with  vermeil  light  the  billows  blue  ? 


THE   FIFTH  READER.  385 

And  (till ice,  thrice  blessed  is  the  eye  that  spied. 
The  hand  that  snatched  it  sparkUng  in  the  tide) 
Whose  cunning  carved  this  vegetable  bowl^ 
Bymbol  of  social  rites,  and  intercourse  of  soul?" 
Such  to  their  grateful  ear  the  gush  of  springs, 
Who  course  the  ostrich,  as  away  she  wings ; 
Sons  of  the  desert !  who  delight  to  dwell 
'Mid  kneeling  camels  round  the  sacred  well ; 
Who,  ere  the  terrors  of  his  pomp  be  past, 
Fall  to  the  demon  in  the  reddening  blast. 

5.  The  sails  were  furled;  with  many  a  melting  oloS6j 
Solemn  and  slow  the  evening  anthem  rose, — 
Rose  to  the  Virgin.     'Twas  the  hour  of  day, 
When  setting  suns  o*er  summer  seas  display 
A  path  of  glory,  opening  in  the  west 
To  golden  climes,  and  islands  of  the  blest ; 
And  human  voices,  on  the  silent  air. 
Went  o'er  the  waves  in  songs  of  gladness  there  ! 

^.  Chosen  of  men !  'twas  thine,  at  noon  of  night. 
First  from  the  prow  to  hail  the  glimmering  light ; 
(Emblem  of  Truth  divine,  whose  secret  ray 
Enters  the  soul,  and  makes  the  darkness  day !) 
"  Pedro !  Eodrigo  !  there,  methought,  it  shone  1 
There — in  the  west !  and  now,  alas  !  'tis  gone  I 
'Twas  all  a  dream  !  we  gaze  and  gaze  in  vain  I 
— But  mark,  and  speak  not,  there  it  comes  again  I 
It  moves  ! — what  form  unseen,  what  being  there 
With  torch-like  luster  fires  the  murky  air  ? 


886  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

His  instincts,  passions,  say  how  like  our  own  ! 
Oh !  when  will  day  reveal  a  world  unknown  ?** 

7.  Long  on  the  wave  the  morning  mists  reposed, 
Then  broke — and,  melting  into  light,  disclosed 
Half-circling  hills,  whose  everlasting  woods 
Sweep  with  their  sable  skirts  the  shadowy  floods ; 
And,  say,  when  all,,  to  holy  transport  given, 
Embraced  and  wept,  as  at  the  gates  of  Heaven, 
When  one  and  all  of  us,  repentant  ran. 
And,  on  our  faces,  blessed  the  wondrous  man ; 
Say,  was  I  then  deceived,  or  from  the  skies 
Burst  on  my  ear  seraphic  harmonies  ? 
"  Glory  to  God  !"  unnunjbered  voices  sung, 
"  Glory  to  God !"  the  vales  and  mountaios  rung, 
Voices  that  hailed  creation's  primal  morn, 
And  to  the  Shepherds  sung  a  Saviour  bom. 


LXXVIIL— FIBST  LANDING  OP  COLUMBUS. 

lEVINa. 

1.  It  was  on  Friday  morning,  the  12th  of  October, 
1492,  that  Columbus  first  beheld  the  New  "World.  As 
the  day  dawned  he  saw  before  him  a  level  island, 
several  leagues  in  extent,  and  covered  with  trees  like  a 
continual  orchard.  Though  apparently  uncultivated, 
it  was  populous,  for  the  inhabitants  were  issuing  from 
all  parts  of  the  woods  and  running  to  the  shore.  They 
were  perfectly  naked,  and,  as  they  stood  gazing  at  the 


THE   FIFTH   READER  387 

ships,  appeared  by  their  attitudes  and  gestures  to  be 
lost  in  astonishment. 

2.  Columbus  made  signals  for  the  ships  to  cast 
anchor,  and  the  boats  to  be  manned  and  armed.  He 
entered  his  own  boat,  richly  attired  in  scarlet,  and 
holding  the  royal  standard ;  whilst  Martin  Alonzo 
Pinzo  and  Vincent  Yanez  his  brother,  put  off  in 
company  in  their  boats,  each  with  a  banner  of  the 
enterprise  emblazoned  with  a  green  cross,  haying  on 
either  side  the  letters  F.  and  Y.,  the  initials  of  the 
Castilian  monarchs  Fernando  and  Ysabel,  surmounted 
by  crowns. 

3.  As  he  approached  the  shore,  Columbus,  who  was 
disposed  for  all  kinds  of  agreeable  impressions,  was 
delighted  with  the  purity  and  suavity  of  the  atmo- 
sphere, the  crystal  transparency  of  the  sea,  and  the 
extraordinary  beauty  of  the  vegetation.  He  beheld, 
also,  fruits  of  an  unknown  kind  upon  the  trees  which 
overhung  the  shores.  On  landing,  he  threw  himself 
on  his  knees,  kissed  the  earth,  and  returned  thanks  to 
God  with  tears  of  joy.  His  example  was  followed  by 
the  rest,  whose  hearts  indeed  overflowed  with  the  same 
feelings  of  gratitude. 

4.  Columbus  then  rising,  drew  his  sword,  displayed 
the  royal  standard,  and  assembling  round  him  the  two 
captains,  with  Rodrigo  de  Escobedo  (es-co-ha'do),- 
notary  of  the  armament,  Rodrig^  Sanchez,  and  the 
rest  who  had  landed,  he  took  solemn  possession  in  the 


388  THE   FIFTH    READER. 

name  of  San  Salvador.  Having  compHed  with  the 
requisite  forms  and  ceremonies,  he  called  upon  all 
present  to  take  the  oath  of  6bedience  to  him,  as  ad- 
miral and  viceroy,  representing  the  persons  of  the 
sovereigns. 

6.  The  feelings  of  the  crew  now  burst  forth  in  the 
most  extravagant  transports.  They  had,  recently 
considered  themselves  devoted  men,  hurrying  forward 
to  destruction;  they  now  looked  upon  themselves  as 
favorites  of  fortune,  and  gave  themselves  up  to  the 
most  unbounded  joy.  They  thronged  around  the 
admiral  with  overflowing  zeal,  some  embracing  him 
others  kissing  his  hands.  Those  who  had  been  most 
mutinous  and  turbulent  during  the  voyage,  were  now 
most  devoted  and  enthusiastic.  Some  begged  favors 
of  him,  as  if  he  had  already  wealth  and  honors  in  his 
gift.  Many  abject  spirits,  who  had  outraged  him  by 
their  insolence,  now  crouched  at  his  feet,  begging  par  • 
don  for  all  the  trouble  they  had  caused  him,  and 
promising  the  blindest  obedience  for  the  future. 

6.  The  natives  of  the  island,  when,  at  the  dawn  of 
day,  they  had  beheld  the  ships  hovering  on  their  coast, 
had  supposed  them  monsters  which  had  issued  from 
the  deep  during  the  night.  They  had  crowded  to  the 
beach,  and  watched  their  movements  with  awful  anx- 
iety. Their  veering  about,  apparently  without  effort, 
and  the  shifting  an4  furhng  of  their  sails,  resembling 
huge  wings,   filled   them   with  astonishment.      When 


THE   Fin  H   KEADElt.  389 

tbey  belield  their  boats  approach  the  shore,  and  a 
number  of  strange  beings  clad  in  glittering  steel,  or 
raiment  of  various  colors,  landing  upon  the  beach,  thej 
fled  in  affright  to  the  woods. 

7.  Finding,  however,  that  there  was  no  attempt  to 
pursue  nor  molest  them,  they  gradually  recovered 
from  their  terror,  and  approached  the  Spaniards  with 
great  awe,  frequently  prostrating  themselves  on  the 
earth,  and  making  signs  of  adoration.  During  the 
ceremonies  of  taking  possession,  they  remained  gazing 
in  timid  admiration  at  the  complexion,  the  beards,  the 
shining  armor,  and  splendid  dress  of  the  Spaniards. 
The  admiral  particularly  attracted  their  attention,  from 
his  commanding  hight,  his  air  of  authority,  his  dress 
of  scarlet,  and  the  deference  which  was  paid  him  by 
his  companions ;  all  which  pointed  him  out  to  be  the 
commander. 

8.  When  they  had  still  further  recovered  from  their 
fears,  they  approached  the  Spaniards,  touched  their 
beards,  and  examined  their  hands  and  faces,  admiring 
their  whiteness.  Columbus  was  pleased  with  their 
gentleness  and  confiding  simplicity,  and  suffered  their 
scrutiny  with  perfect  acquiescence,  winning  them  by 
his  benignity.  They  now  supposed  that  tke  ships  had 
sailed  out  of  the  crystal  firmament  which  bounded 
their  horizon,  or  had  descended  from  above  on  their 
ample  wings,  and  that  these  marvelous  beings  wer^ 
inhabitants  of  the  skies. 


390  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

9.  The  natives  of  the  island  were  no  less  objects  of 
curiosity  to  the  Spaniards,  differing,  as  they  did,  from 
any  race  of  men  they  had  ever  seen.  Their  appear- 
ance gave  no  promise  of  either  wealth  or  civilization, 
for  they  were  entirely  naked,  and  painted  with  a 
variety  of  colors.  "With  some  it  was  confined  merely 
to  a  part  of  the  face,  the  nose  or  around  the  eyes ; 
with  others  it  extended  to  the  whole  body,  and  gave 
them  a  wild  andlantastic  appearance. 

10.  Their  complexion  was  of  a  tawny  or  copper  hue, 
and  they  were  entirely  destitute  of  beards.  Their  hair 
was  not  crisped,  like  the  recently-discovered  tribes  of 
the  African  coast,  under  the  same  latitude,  but  straight 
and  coarse,  partly  cut  short  above  the  ears,  but  some 
locks  were  left  long  behind  and  falling  upon  their 
shoulders.  Their  features,  though  obscured  and  dis- 
colored by  paint,  were  agreeable ;  they  had  lofty 
foreheads,  and  remarkably  fine  eyes.  They  were  of 
moderate  stature  and  well  shaped;  most  of  them 
appeared  to  be  under  thirty  years  of  age. 


LXXIX-^THE  LANDING  OF  COLUMBUS— Cootintjed. 
1.  As  C«Jumbus  supposed  himself  to  have  landed  on 
an  island  at  the  extremity  of  India,  he  called  the 
natives  by  the  general  appellation  of  Indians,  which 
«vas  universally  adopted  before  the  true  nature  of  his 
discovery  was  known,  and  has  since  been  extended  to 


I 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  391 


all  the  aboriginals  of  the  New  World.  The  Islaudera 
were  friendly  and  gentle.  Their  only  arms  were  lances, 
hardened  at  the  end  by  fire,  or  pointed  with  a  flint,  or 
the  teeth  or  bone  of  a  fish.  There  was  no  iron  to  be 
seen,  nor  did  they  appear  acquainted  with  its  proper- 
liies ;  for,  when  a  drawn  sword  was  presented  to  them, 
they  unguardedly  took  it  by  the  edge. 

2.  Columbus  distributed  among  them  colored  caps, 
glass  beads,  hawks'  bells,  and  other  trifles,  such  as  the 
Portuguese  were  accustomed  to  trade  with  among  the 
nations  of  the  gold  coast  of  Africa.  They  received 
them  eagerly,  hung  the  beads  around  their  necks,  and 
were  wonderfully  pleased  with  their  finery,  and  with 
the  sound  of  the  bells.  The  Spaniards  remained  all 
day  on  shore,  refreshing  themselves  after  their  anxious 
voyage  amidst  the  beautiful  groves  of  the  island,  and 
returned  on  board  late  in  the  evening,  delighted  with 
all  they  had  seen. 

3.  On  the  following  morning  at  break  of  day,  the 
shore  was  thronged  with  the  natives ;  some  swam  off 
to  the  ships,  others  came  in  light  barks,  which  they 
called  canoes,  formed  of  a  single  tree  hollowed,  and 
capable  of  holding  from  one  man  to  the  number  of 
forty  or  fifty.  These  they  managed  dexterously  with 
paddles,  and,  if  overturned,  swam  about  in  the  water 
with  perfect  unconcern,  as  if  in  their  natural  element, 
righting  their  canoes  with  great  facility,  and  baling 
them  with  calabashes. 


392  *  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

4.  Tliey  were  eager  to  procure  more  toys  and 
trinkets,  not,  apparently,  from  any  idea  of  their  in- 
trinsic value,  but  because  everything  from  the  hands 
of  sti*angers  possessed  a  supernatural  virtue  in  their 
eyes,  as  having  been  brought  from  heaven ;  they  even 
picked  up  fragments  of  glass  and  earthenware  as  valu-?. 
able  prizes.  They  had  but  few  objects  to  offer  in  re- 
turn, except  parrots,  of  which  great  numbers  were  do- 
mesticated among  them,  and  cotton  yarn,  of  which 
they  had  abundance,  and  would  exchange  large  balls 
of  five  and  twenty  pounds'  weight  for  the  merest  trifle. 

5.  They  brought  also  cakes  of  a  kind  of  bread  called 
cassava,  which  constituted  a  principal  part  of  their 
food,  and  was  afterward  an  important  article  of  provi- 
sions with  the  Spaniards.  It  was  formed  from  a  great 
root  called  yucA,  which  they  cultivated  in  fields.  This 
they  cut  into  small  morsels,  which  they  grated  or 
scraped,  and  strained  in  a  press,  making  a  broad,  thin 
cake,  which  was  afterward  dried  hard,  and  would  keep 
for  a  long  time,  being  steeped  in  water  when  eaten.  It 
was  insipid,  but  nourishing,  though  the  water  strained 
from  it  was  a  .deadly  poison.  There  was  another  kind 
of  yuca  .destitute  of  this  poisonous  quality,  which  was 
eaten  in  the  root,  either  boiled  or  roasted. 

6.  The  avarice  of  the  discoverers  was  quickly  excited 
by  the  sight  of  small  ornaments  of  gold,  worn  by  some 
of  the  natives  in  their  noses.  These  the  latter  gladly  ex- 
changed for  glass  beads  and  hawks'  bells ;  and  both 


I 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  30' 


parties  exulted  in  tlie  bargain,  no  doubt  admiring  each 
other's  simplicity.  As  gold,  howev(3r,  was  an  object  of 
royal  monopoly  in  all  enterprises  of  discovery,  Colum- 
bus forbade  any  traffic  in  it  without  his  express  sanc- 
tion ;  and  he  put  the  same  prohibition  on  the  traffic  for 
cotton,  reserving  to  the  crown  all  trade  for  it,  wherever 
it  should  be  found  in  any  quantity. 

7.  He  inquired  of  the  natives  where  this  gg»ld  was 
procured.  They  answered  him  by  signs,  pointing  to 
the  south,  where,  he  understood  them,  dwelt  a  king  of 
such  wealth  that  he  w^as  served  in  vessels  of  wrought 
gold.  He  understood,  also,  that  there  was  land  to  the  ■ 
south,  the  southwest,  and  the  northwest ;  and  that  the 
people  from  the  last-mentioned  quarter  frequently  pro- 
ceeded to  the  southwest  in  quest  of  gold  and  precious 
stones,  making  in  their  way  descents  upon  the  islands, 
and  carrying  off  the  inhabitants.  Several  of  the  natives 
showed  him  scars^of  wounds  received  in  battles  with 
these  invaders.  It  is  evident  that  a  great  part  of  this 
fancied  intelligence  was  self-delusion  on  the  part  of 
Columbus ;  for  he  was  under  a  spell  of  the  imagina- 
tion, which  gave  its  own  shapes  and  colors  to  every 
object. 

8.  He  was  persuaded  that  he  had  arrived  among  the 
islands  described  by^  Marco  Polo,  as  lying  opposite 
Cathay,  in  the  Chinese  Sea,  and  he  construed  every- 
thing to  accord  with  the  account  given  of  those  opulent 
regions.     Thus  the  enemies  which  the  natives  spoke  of 


394  THE  HFIH  READEK. 

as  corniug  from  the  northwest,  he  cj^icludecl  to  be  the 
people  of  the  mamland  of  Asia,  the  subjects  of  the 
great  Khan  of  Tartary,  who  were  represented  by  the 
Venetian  traveler  as  accustomed  to  make  war  upoi) 
the  islands,  and  to  enslave  the  inhabitants.  The  coun- 
try to  the  south,  abounding  in  gold,  could  be  no  other 
than  the  famous  island  of  Cipango ;  and  the  king,  who 
was  served  out  of  vessels  of  gold,  must  be  the  monarch 
whose  magnificent  city  and  gorgeous  palace,  covered 
with  plates  of  gold,  had  been  extolled  in  such  splendid 
terms  by  Marco  Polo. 

9.  The  island  where  Columbus  had  thus,  for  the  first 
time,  set  his  foot  upon  the  New  World,  was  called  by 
the  natives,  Guanahane  (gwali-nah-hah'ne).  lU  still 
retains  the  name  of  San  Salvador,  which  he  gtive  to  it, 
though  called  by  the  English,  Cat  Island.  The  light 
which  he  had  seen  the  evening  previous  to  his  making 
land,  may  have  been  on  Watling's  Island,  which  lies  a 
few  leagues  to  the  east.  San  Salvador  is  one  of  the 
great  cluster  of  the  Lucayos  (loo-ki'oce),  or  Bahama 
Islands,  which  stretch  southeast  and  northwest  from 
the  coant  of  FWida  to  Hispaniola,  covering  the  north - 
ein  coast  of  Cubf^. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  393 

LXXX.-THE  DEATH  OF  MONTEZUMA. 


EOBEBTSON. 


1.  The  llexicans,  now  discovering  Cortez's  bloody 
intention^  resumed  their  arms  with  the  additional 
fury  which  tbis  discovery  inspired,  attacked  the  Span- 
iards who  were  inarching  toward  the  great  square  in 
which  the  pubKc  market  was  held,  and  compelled  them 
to  retire  with  some  loss.  Emboldened  by  this  success, 
and  delighted  to  find  that  their  oppressors  were  not 
invincible,  they  advanood  next  day  with  extraordinary 
martial  pomp  to  assault  the  Spaniards  in  their  own 
quarters.  Their  number  was  formidable,  and  their 
undaunted  courage  still  move  so. 

2.  Though  the  artillery,  pointed  against  their  nu- 
merous battalions,  crowded  t.'^gether  in  narrow  streets, 
swept  off  multitudes  at  every  discharge  ;  though  every 
blow  of  the  Spanish  weapons  fell  with  mortal  effect 
upon  their  naked  bodies,  the  impetuosity  of  the  assault 
did  not  abate.  '  Fresh  men  rushed  forward  to  occupy 
the  places  of  the  slain,  and,  meeting  with  the  same 
fate,  were  succeeded  by  others  no  less  intrepid  and 
eager  for  vengeance.  The  utmost  efforts  of  Cortez  s 
abilities  and  experience,  seconded  by  the  disciplined 
valor  of  his  troops,  were  hardly  sufficient  to  defend  the 
fortifications  that  surrounded  the  post  where  tlio 
Spaniards  were  stationed,  into  which  the  enemy  were 
more  than  once  on  the  point  of  forcing  their  way. 

3.  Cortez   beheld    with   wonder   the  implacable  fe- 


396  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

rocity  of  a  people  wlio  seemed  at  first  to  submit 
tamely  to  the  yoke,  and  had  continued  so  loug  passive 
under  it.  As  soon  as  the  approach  of  evening  induced 
the  Mexicans  to  retire,  in  compliance  with  their  na- 
tional custom  of  ceasing  from  hostilities  with  tho 
setting  sun,  he  began  to  prepare  for  a  sally,  next  day, 
with  such  considerable  force  as  might  either  drive  tho 
enemy  out  of  the  city,  or  compel  them  to  listen  to 
terms  of  accommodation. 

4.  Cortez  conducted,  in  person,  the  troops  destined 
for  this  important  service.  Every  invention  known  in 
the  European  art  of  war,  as  well  as  every  precaution 
suggested  by  his  long  acquaintance  with  the  Indian 
mode  of  fighting,  were  emploj^ed  to  insure  success. 
But  he  found  an  enemy  prepared  and  determined  to 
oppose  him.  The  force  of  the  Mexicans  was  greatly 
augmented  by  fresh  troops,  which  poured  in  continually 
from  the  country,  and  their  animosity  was  in  no  degree 
abated.  They  were  led  by  their  nobles,  inflamed  by 
the  exhortations  of  their  priests,  and  fought  in  defence 
qi  their  temples  and  famiUes,  under  the  eye  of  theii' 
gods,  and  in  presence  of  their  wives  and  children. 

5.  After  a  day  of  incessant  exertion,  though  vast 
numbers  of  the  Mexicans  fell,  and  part  of  the  city  was 
burnt,  the  Spaniards,  weary  with  the  slaughter  and 
harassed  by  multitudes  which  successively  relieved 
each  other,  were  obliged  at  length  to  retire  with  the 
naortifipation  of  having  accomplished  nothing  so  do- 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  397 

cisive  as  to  compensate  the  unusual  calamity  of  having 
twelve  soldiers  killed  and  above  sixty  wounded.  An- 
other sally,  made  with  greater  force,  was  more  effec- 
tual, and  in  it  the  general  himself  was  wounded  in  the 
hand. 

6.  Cortez  now  perceived,  too  late,  the  fatal  error 
into  which  he  had  been  betrayed  by  his  own  contempt 
of  the  Mexicans,  and  was  satisfied  that  he  could 
neither  maintain  his  present;  station  in  the  centre  of  a 
hostile  city,  nor  retire  from  it  without  the  most  im- 
minent danger.  One  resource  still  remained,  to  try 
what  effect  the  interposition  of  Montezuma  might  have 
to  soothe  or  overawe  his  subjects.  When  the  Mexi- 
cans approached  next  morning  to  renew  the  assault, 
that  unfortunate  prince,  at  the  mercy  of  the  Spaniards, 
and  reduced  to  the  sad  necessity  of  becoming  the 
instrument  of  his  own  disgrace  and  of  the  slavery  of 
his  people,  advanced  to  the  battlements  in  his  royal 
robes,  and  with  all  the  pomp  in  which  he  used  to 
appear  on  solemn  occasions. 

7.  At  sight  of  their  sovereign,  whom  they  had  long 
been  accustomed  to  honor  and  almost  to  revere  as  a 
god,  the  weapons  dropped  from  their  hands,  every 
^.ongue  was  silent,  all  bowed  their  heads,  and  many 
prostrated  themselves  on  the  ground.  Montezuma  ad- 
dressed them  with  every  argument  that  could  mitigate 
theii*  rage  or  persuade  them  to  cease  from  hostilities 
When  he  ended  his  discourse,  a  sullen  mur.nur  of  dis 


398  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

approbation  ran  through  the  ranks  ;  to  this  succeeded 
reproaches  and  threats  ;  and  the  fury  of  the  multitude 
rising  in  a  moment  above  every  restraint  of  decency  or 
respect,  flights  of  arrows  and  volleys  of  stones  poured 
in  so  violently  upon  the  ramparts,  that  before  the 
Spanish  soldiers  appointed  to  cover  Montezuma  with 
their  bucklers  had  time  to  lift  them  in  his  defence,  two 
arrows  wounded  the  xmhappy  monarch,  and  the  blow 
of  a  stone  on  his  temple  struck  him  to  the  ground. 

8.  On  seeing  him  fall,  the  Mexicans  were  so  much 
astonished,  that,  with  a  transition  not  uncommon  in 
popular  tumults,  they  passed  in  a  moment  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other ;  remorse  succeeded  to  insult,  and 
they  fled  with  horror,  as  if  the  vengeance  of  heaven 
"were  pursuing  the  crime  which  they  had  committed. 
The  Spaniards  without  molestation  carried  Montezuma 
to  his  apartments,  and  Cortez  hastened  thither  to  con- 
sole him  under  his  misfortune. 

9.  But  the  unhappy  monarch  now  perceived  how 
low  he  was  sunk  ;  and  the  haughty  spirit,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  so  long  extinct,  returning,  he  scorned  to 
survive  this  last  humiliation.  In  a  transport  of  rage, 
he  tore  the  bandages  from  his  wounds,  and  refused 
with  such  obstancy  to  take  any  nourishment,  that  he 
soon  ended  his  wretched  days,  rejecting  with  disdain  . 
all  the  solicitations  of  the  Spaniards  to  embrace  the 
Christian  faith.  Upon  the  death  ol  Montezuma, 
Coitez,  having  l(>st  all  hope  of  bringing  the  M(;xicana 


THF  FIFTH   '{EADER.  •  399 


10  accommorlatiou    saw  uo  prospQct  of  safety  but  in 
etreat  (152C/. 


LXXXL-THE  DISCOVERY  OF  PERU. 


1.  While  the  whole  eastern  coast  of  the  American 
continent  had  been  explored,  and  the  central  portion 
of  it  colonized, — even  after  the  brilliant  achievement 
of  the  Mexican  conquest, — the  veil  was  not  yet  raised 
that  hung  over  the  golden  shores  of  the  Pacific.  Float- 
ing rumors  had  reached  the  Spaniards,  from  time  to 
time,  of  countries  in  the  far  West,  teeming  with  the 
metal  they  so  much  coveted  ;  but  the  first  distinct 
notice  of  Peru  was  about  the  year  1511,  when  Yasco 
Nunez  de  Balboa,  the  discoverer  of  the  Southern  Sea, 
was  weighing  some  gold  which  ho  had  collected  from 
the  natives. 

'  2.  A  young  barbarian  chieftain,  who  was  present, 
struck  the  scales  with  his  fist,  and,  scattering  the 
glittering  metal  around  the  apartment,  exclaimed, — 
"  If  this  is  what  you  prize  so  much  that  you  are  wilHng 
to  leave  your  distant  homes,  and  risk  even  life  Itself 
for  it,  I  can  tell  you  of  a  laud  where  they  eat  and  drink 
out  of  golden  vessels,  and  gold  is  as  cheap  as  iron  is 
with  you."  It  was  not  long  after  this  startliug  intelli- 
gence that  Balboa  achieved  the  formidable  advouture 
of  scaling  the  moantaiii  rampart  of  tbo  isthmus  which 


400  '  THE  FIFTH   KEADER. 

divides  the  two  mighty  oceans  frora  each  other 
when,  armed  with  sword  and  buckler,  he  rushed  into 
the  waters  of  the  Pacific,  and  cried  out,  in  the  true 
chivalrous  vein,  that  "he  claimed  this  unknown  sea, 
with  all  that  it  contained,  for  the  King  of  Castile,  and 
that  he  would  make  good  the  claim  against  all, 
Christian  or  infidel,  wl^o  dared  to  gainsay  it."  All  the 
broad  continent  and  sunny  isles  washed  by  the  waters 
of  the  Southern  Ocean !  Little  did  the  bold  cavalier 
comprehend  the  full  import  of  his  magnificent  vaunt. 
3.  On  this  spot  he  received  more  explicit  tidings  of 
the  Peruvian  empire,  heard  proofs  recounted  of  its 
civilization,  and  was  shown  drawings  of  the  llama, 
which,  to  the  European  eye,  seemed  a  species  of  the 
Arabian  camel.  But,  although  he  steered  his  caravel 
for  these  golden  realms,  and  even  pushed  his  dis- 
coveries some  twenty  leagues  south  of  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Michael,  the  adventure  was  not  reserved  for  him.  The 
illustrious  discoverer  was  doomed  to  fall  a  vix3tim  to 
that  miserable  jealousy  with  which  a  little  spirit  re- 
gards the  achievements  of  a  great  one. 

4.  The  Spanish  colonial  domain  was  broken  up  into 
a  number  of  petty  governments,  which  were  dispensed 
sometimes  to  court  favorites  ;  though,  as  the  duties  of 
the  post,  at  this  early  period,  were  of  an  arduous  na- 
ture, they  were  more  frequently  reserved  for  men  of 
some  practical  talent  and  enterprise  Columbus,  by 
virtue  of   his  original  contract   with    the  Crown,  haJ 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  401 

'nrisdiction  over  the  territories  discovered  by  Limself, 
embracing  some  of  the  principal  islands,  and  a  few 
places  on  tlie  continent 

5.  These  colonial  governments  were  multiplied  with 
the  increase  of  empire,  and  by  the  year  1524  were  scat- 
tered over  the  islands,  along  the  Isthmus  of  Darien, 
the  broad  tract  of  Terra  Firma,  and  the  recent  con- 
quests of  Mexico.  Some  of  these  governments  were  of 
no  great  extent.  Others,  like  that  of  Mexico,  wore  of 
the  dimensions  of  a  kingdom  ;  and  most  had  an  indefi- 
nite range  for  discovery  assigned  to  them  in  their 
immediate  neighborhood,  by  which  each  of  the  petty 
potentates  might  enlarge  his  territorial  sway,  and  en- 
rich his  followers  and  himself. 

6.  Floating  rumors  of  the  wealth  and  civilization  of 
a  mighty  nation  at  the  South  were  continually  reaching 
the  ears  and  kindling  the  dreamy  imaginations  of  the 
colonists ;  and  it  may  seem  astonishing  that  an  expe- 
dition in  that  direction  should  have  been  so  long 
deferred.  But  the  exact  position  and  distance  of  this 
fairy  realm  were  matter  of  conjecture.  The  long  tract 
of  intervening  country  was  occupied  by  rude  and  war- 
like races ;  and  the  little  experience  which  the  Spanish 
navigators  had  already  had  of  the  neighboring  coast 
and  its  inhabitants,  and  still  more,  the  tempestuous 
character  of  the  seas — for  their  expeditions  had  taken 
place  at  the  most  unpropitious  seasons  of  the  year, — 


402  THE  Firrn  reader. 

enhanced  the  apparent  difficulties  of  the  undertaking, 
and  made  eyen  their  stout  hearts  shrink  from  it. 

7.  Such  was  the  state  of  feehng  in  the  httle  com- 
munity of  Panama*  for  several  years  after  its  founda- 
tion. Meanwhile,  the  dazzling  conquest  of  Mexico 
gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  ardor  of  discovery,  and,  in 
1524,  three  men  were  found  in  the  colony  in  whom  the 
spirit  of  adventure  triumphed  over  every  consideration 
of  difficulty  and  danger  that  obstructed  the  prosecution 
of  the  enterprise.  One  among  them  was  selected  as 
fitted  by  his  character  to  conduct  it  to  a  successful 
issue.     That  man  was  Francisco  Pizarfo  fpe-zah^roj. 


LXXXIL— DISCOVERY  OF  PERU.— Continued. 

1.  At  length  the  adventurous  vessel  rounded  the 
point  of  St.  Helena,  and  glided  smoothly  into  the 
waters  of  the  beautiful  gulf  of  Guayaquil  (gwi-ah-ked^). 
The  country  was  here  studded  along  the  shore  with 
towns  and  villages,  though  the  mighty  chain  of  the 
Cordilleras  [the  Andes],  sweeping  up  abruptly  from 
the  coast,  left  but  a  narrow  strip  of  emerald  verdure, 
through  which  numerous  rivulets,  spreading  fertility 
around  them,  wound  their  way  into  the-  sea.  The 
voyagers  were  now  abreast  of  some  of  the  most  stu- 

*  Panama  was  founded  by  the  Spaniards  in  1519,  who  thus  trans- 
ferred the  capital  of  their  South  American  colony  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  with  the  view  to  prosecute  their  explorations  and 
coniiuests  southward  along  the  newly-ditf>overed  South  Sea. 


I 


THE  FIFTH  READER.      *  403 


pendous  higlits  of  this  magnificent  range — Cliimborazo, 
with  its  broad  round  summit  towering  hke  the  dome 
of  the  Andes,  and  Cotopaxi,  with  its  dazzling  cone  of 
bilvery  white,  that  knows  no  change  except  from  th 
action  of  its  own  volcanic  fires, — for  this  mountain  is 
the  most  terrible  of  the  American  volcanoes,  and  was 
in  formidable  activity  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
period  of  our  narrative 

2.  Well  pleased  with  the  signs  of  civilization  that 
opened  on  them  at  every  league  of  their  progress, 
the  Spaniards  at  length  (1526)  came  to  anchor  off  the 
Island  of  Santa  Clara,  lying  at  the  entrance  of  the  bay 
of  Tumbez  (toombez).  The  place  was  uninhabited,  but 
was  recognized  by  the  Indians  on  board  as  occasion- 
ally resorted  to  by  warlike  people  of  the  neighboring 
isle  of  Puna  (poo'nah),  for  the  purpose  of  sacrifice  and 
worship.  The  Spaniards  found  on  the  spot  a  few  bits 
of  gold  rudely  wrought  into  various  shapes,  and  pro- 
bably designed  as  offerings  to  the  Indian  deity.  Their 
hearts  were  cheered  as  the  natives  assured  them  they 
would  see  abundance  of  the  same  precious  metal  in 
their  own  city  of  Tumbez. 

3.  The  following  morning  they  stood  across  the  bay 
for  this  place.  As  they  drew  near,  they  beheld  a  town 
of  considerable  size  with  many  of  the  buidings  appar- 
ently of  stone  and  plaster,  situated  in  the  bosom  of  a 
fruitful  meadow,  which  seemed  to  have  been  redeemed 
from  the  sterility  of  the  surrounding  country  by  caie- 


404  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

ful  and  minute  irrigation.  When  at  some  distance  from 
the  shore,  Pizarro  saw  standing  toward  him  several 
large  balsas/  which  were  filled  with  warriors  going  on 
an  expedition  against  the  island  of  Puna. 

4.  Bunning  alongside  of  the  Indian  flotilla,  he  in- 
vited some  of  the  chiefs  to  come  on  board  the  vessel. 
The  Peruvians  gazed  with  wonder  on  every  object 
which  met  their  eyes,  and  especially  on  their  own 
countrymen,  whom  they  had  little  expected  to  meet 
there.  The  latter  informed  them  in  what  manner  they 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  strangers,  whom  they  de- 

'scribed  as  a  wonderful  race  of  beings  that  had  come 
thither  for  no  harm,  but  solely  to  be  made  acquainted 
with  the  country  and  its  inhabitants. 

5.  This  account  was  confirmed  by  the  Spanish  com- 
mander, who  persuaded  the  Indians  to  return  in  their 
balsas  and  report  what  they  had  learned  to  their 
townsmen,  requesting  them  at  the  same  time  to  pro- 
vide his  vessel  with  refreshments,  as  it  was  his  desire 
to  enter  into  friendly  intercourse  with  the  natives. 
The  people  of  Tumbez  were  gathered  along  the  shore, 
and  were  gazing  with  unutterable  amazement  on  the 
floating  castle,  which,  now  having  dropped  anchor,  rode 
lazily  at  its  moorings  in  their  bay.  I'hey  eagerly  lis- 
tened to  the  accounts* of  their  countrymen,  and  in- 
stantly reported  the  affair  to  the  curaca  {koo-rah'cuh), 
or  ruler  of  the  district,  who,  conceiving  that  the  strau-. 


THE   FIFTH   READER.  405 

gers  must  be  beings  of  a  superior  order,  prepared  at 
once  to  comply  with  their  request. 

6.  It  was  not  long  before  several  balsas  were  seen 
steering  for  the  vessel  laden  with  bananas,  plantains,* 
yuca,  Indian  corn,  sweet  potatoes,  pineapples,  cocoa- 
nuts,  and  other  rich  products  of  the  beautiful  vale  of 
Tumbez.  Game  and  fish,  also,  were  added,  with  a 
number  of  llamas,  of  which  Pizarro  had  seen  the 
rude  drawings  belonging  to  Balboa,  but  of  which, 
till  now,  he  had  met  with  no  living  specimen.  He  ex- 
amined this  curious  animal,  the  Peruvian  sheep, — or, 
as  the  Spaniards  called  it,  the  "  little  camel "  of  tlie  In- 
dians,— with  much  interest,  greatly  admiring  tho  mix- 
ture of  the  wool  and  hair  which  supplied  the  natives 
with  materials  for  their  fabrics. 

7.  At  that  time  there  happened  to  be  at  Tumbez  an 
Inca  noble,  or  orejon^—iov  so  men  of  his  rank  were 
called  by  the  Spaniards,  from  the  large  ornaments  of 
gold  attached  to  their  ears.  He  expressed  great  curi- 
osity to  see  the  wonderful  strangers,  and  had,  accord- 
ingly, come  out  with  the  balsas  for  the  purpose.  It 
was  easy  to  perceive  from  the  superior  quality  of  his 
dress,  as  well  as  from  the  deference  paid  to  him  by  the 
others,  that  he  was  a  person  of  consideration,  and 
Pizarro  received  him  with  marked  distinction. 

8.  He  showed  him  the  different  parts  of  the  ship,  ex- 
plaining to  him  the  uses  of  whatever  engaged  his  at* 


406  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

tention,  and  answeiing  his  queries,  as  well  as  he  could, 
by  means  of  Indian  interpreters.  The  Peruvian  chief 
was  especially  desirous  of  knowing  whence  and  why 
Pizarro  and  his  followers  had  come  to  these  shores. 
The  Spanish  .captain  replied  that  he  was  the  vassal  of 
a  great  prince,  the  greatest  and  most  powerful  in  the 
world,  and  that  he  had  come  to  this  country  to  assert 
his  master's  lawful  supremacy  over  it. 
.  9.  He  had  further  come  to  rescue  the  inhabitants 
from  the  darkness  of  unbelief  in  which  they  were 
now  wandering.  They  worshiped  an  evil  spirit,  who 
would  sink  their  souls  into  everlasting  perdition ;  and 
he  would  give  them  the  knowledge  of  the  true  and 
only  God,  Jesus  Christ,  since  to  believe  in  Him  was 
eternal  salvation.  The  Indian  prince  listened  with 
deep  attention  and  apparent  wonder;  but  answered 
nothing.  It  may  be  that  neither  he  nor  his  interpre- 
ters had  any  very  distinct  ideas  of  the  doctrines  thus 
abruptly  revealed  to  them. 

10.  It  may  be  that  he  did  not  believe  there  was  any 
other  potentate  on  earth  greater  than  the  Inca  ;  none, 
at  least,  who  had  a  better  right  to  lule  over  his  do- 
minions. And  it  was  very  possy)le  he  was  not  dis- 
posed to  admit  that  the  great  luminary  whom  ho 
worshiped  was  inferior  to  the  God  of  the  Spaniards. 
But  whatever  may  have  passed  in  the  untutored  mind 
of  the  barbarian,  he  did  not  give  vent  to  it,  but  main- 


THE   FIFTH  BEADER.  407 

tained  a  discreet  silence,  without  any  attempt  to  con- 
tj'overt  or  to  convince  his  Christian  antagonist. 

'  Baij'-sas,  a  sort  of  sloop,  with  one  large  mast,  usually  used  for  na  'al 

or  maritime  purposes. 
*  Or-e'-jx,  in  Spanish  means  ear. 


LXXXIIL— THE  DISCOVERY  OF  PERU.— CoNTmuED. 

1.  He  remained  on  board  the  vessel  till  the  hour  of 
dinner,  of  which  he  partook  with  the  Spaniards,  ex- 
pressing his  satisfaction  at  the  strange  dishes,  "and 
especially  pleased  with  the  wine,  which  he  pronounced 
far  superior  to  the  fermented  liquors  of  his  own  coun- 
try. On  taking  leave,  he  courteously  pressed  the 
Spaniards  to  visit  Tumbez,  and  Pizarro  dismissed  him 
with  a  present,  among  other  things,  of  an  iron  hatchet, 
which  had  greatly  excited  his  admiration  ;  for  the  use' 
of  iron  was  as  little  known  to  the  Peruvians  as  to  the 
Mexicans. 

2.  On  the  day  following,  the  Spanish  captain  sent 
one  of  his  own-  men,  named  Alonzo  de  Molina  (mo- 
le f-nah),  on  shore,  accompanied  by  a  negro  who  had 
come  in  the  vessel  from  Panama,  together  with  a 
present  for  the  curaca,  of  some  swine  and  poultry, 
neither  of  which  were  indigenous  to  the  New  World. 
Toward  evening  his  emissary  returned  with  a  fresh 
supply  of  fruits  and  vegetables,  that  the  friendly 
people  sent  to  the  vessel.  Molina  had  a  "ivond^ous 
tale  to  tell. 


^ 


iOS  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

3.  On  landing  he  was  surrounded  bj  the  natives 
who  expressed  the  greatest  astonishment  at  his  dress, 
his  fair  complexion,  and  his  long  beard.  The  women, 
especially,  manifested  great  curiosity  in  respect  to  him, 
and  Molina  seemed  to  be  entirely  won  by  their  charms 
and  captivating  manners.  He  probably  intimated  his 
satisfaction  by  his  demeanor,  sinc^  they  urged  him  to 
stay  among  them,  promising  in  that  case  to  provide 
him  with  a  beautiful  wife.  The  surprise  was  equally 
great  at  the  complexion  of  his  sable  companion.  They 
could  not  believe  it  was  natural,  and  tried  to  rub  ofi 
the  imaginary  dye  with  their  hands. 

4.  As  the  African  bore  all  this  with  characteristic 
good-humor,  displaying  at  the  same  time  his  rows  of 
ivory  teeth,  they  were  prodigiously  delighted.  The 
animals  were  no  less  above  their  comprehension ;  and, 
when  the  cock  crew,  the  simple  people  clapped  their 
hands,  and  inquired  what  he  was  saying.  Their  in- 
tellects were  so  bewildered  by  sights  so  novel,  that 
they  seemed  incapable  of  distinguishing  between  man 
and  brute. 

5.  Molina  was  then  escorted  to  the  residence  of  the 
curaca,  whom  he  found  living  in  much  state,  with 
porters  stationed  at  his  doors,  and  with  a  quantity  of 
gold  and  silver  vessels,  from  which  he  was  served. 
He  was  then  taken  to  different  parts  of  the  Indian 
city,  sa\x  a  fortress  built  of  rough  stone,  and,  though 
low,  spreading  over  a  large  extent  of  ground.     Neai 


j^f. 


THE  FIFTH  READER,  409 

this  was  a  temple ;  and  the  Spaniard's  description  of 
its  decorations,  blazing  with  gold  and  silver,  seemed 
so  extravagant,  that  Pizarro,  distrusting  his  whole  ac- 
count, resolved  to  send  a  more  discreet  and  trust- 
worthy emissary  on  the  following  day. 

6.  The  person  selected  was  Pedro  de  Candia,  a 
Greek  cavalier  who  had  joined  the  expedition.  He 
was  sent  on  shore  dressed  in  complete  mail,  as  became 
a  good  knight,  with  his  sword  by  his  side,  and  his 
arquebuse^  on  his  shoulder.  The  Indians  were  even 
more  dazzled  by  his  appearance  than  by  Molina's,  as 
the  sun  fell  brightly  on  his  polished  armor,  and  glanced 
from  his  military  weapons.  They  had  heard  much  of 
the  formidable  arquebuse  from  their  townsmen  who 
had  come  in  the  vessel,  and  they  besought  Candia  "to 
let  it  speak  to  them." 

7.  He  accordingly  set  up  a  wooden  board  as  a  tar- 
get, and,  taking  deliberate  aim,  fired  off  the  musket. 
The  flash  of  the  powder,  and  the  startling  report  of  the 
piece,  as  the  board,  struck  by  the  ball,  was  shivered 
into  splinters,  filled  the  natives  with  dismay.  Some 
fell  on  the  ground,  covering  their  faces  with  their 
hands,  and  others  approached  the  cavalier  with  feel- 
ings of  awe,  which  were  gradually  dispelled  by  the  as- 
surance they  received  from  the  smiling  expression  of 
his  countenance. 

8.  They  then  showed  him  the  same  hospitable  at- 
tentions  which  they  had  paid   to  Molina ;    and   hi 


410  THE  FIFTH  EEADER. 

description  of  the  marrels  of  the  place,  on  his  return, 
fell  nothing  short  of  his  predecessor's.  The  fortress, 
which  was  surrounded  by  a  triple  row  of  wall,  was 
strongly  garrisoned.  The  temple  ho  described  as 
literally  tapestried  with  plates  of  gold  and  silver.  Ad- 
joining this,  structure  was  a  sort  of  convent  appro- 
priated to  the  Inca's  destined  brides,  who  manifested 
grea,t  curiosity  to  see  him.  Whether  this  was  gratified 
is  not  clear ;  but  Candia  described  the  gardens  of  the 
convent,  which  he  entered,  as  glowing  with  imitations 
of  fruits  and  vegetables,  all  in  pure  gold  and  silver  1 
He  had  seen  a  number  of  artisans  at  work,  whose  sole 
business  seemed  to  be  to  furnish  these  gorgeous  decor- 
ations for  the  religious  houses 

9.  Tumbez  was  a  favorite  city  of  the  Peruvian 
princes.  It  was  the  most  important  place  on  the 
northern  borders  of  the  empire,  contiguous  to  the 
recent  acquisition  of  Quito.  A  strong  fortress  was 
established  there.  The  temple  and  the  house  occu- 
pied by  the  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  had  been  erected 
by  Huayna  Capac  (hwi'ndh  cah'pacj,  and  were  liberally 
endowed  by  that  Inca,  after  the  sumptuous  fashion  of 
the  religious  establishments  of  Peru.  The  town  was 
well  supplied  with  water  by  numerous  aqueducts,  and 
the  fruitful  valley  in  which  it  was  embosomed,  and  the 
ocean  which  bathed  its  shores,  supplied  ample  means 
of  subsistence  to  a  considerable  population.  . 

10.  But  the  cupidity  of  the  Spaniards,  after  the  con- 


THE    FIFTH   RTT.at^ttw  411 

quest,  was  not  slow  in  despoiling  the  place  of  its 
glories  ;  and  the  site  of  its  proud  towers  and  temples, 
in  less  than  half  a  century  after  that  fatal  period,  was 
to  be  traced  only  by  the  huge  mass  of  ruins  that  en- 
cumbered the  ground.  The  Spaniards  were  nearly 
mad  with  joy,  says  an  old  writer,  at  receiving  these 
brilliant  tidings  of  the  Peruvian  city.  All  their  fond 
dreams  were  now  to  be  realized,  and  they  had  at 
length  reached  the  realm  which  had  so  long  flitted  in 
visionary  splendor  before  them.  Pizarro  expressed 
his  gratitude  to  heaven  for  having  crowned  his  labors 
with  so  glorious  a  result. 

1  Ab'-que-buse,  a  sort  of  hand  gun,  anciently  used,  which  was  cocked 
with  a  wheel. 


LXXXIV.— THE  ANGELS  AT  BUBNA  VISTA- 


The  American  Army,  nnder  General  Taylor^  defeated  the  Mexioana 
at  Buena  Vista,  February  22d  and  23d,  1847. 

1.  Speak  and  tell  us,  our  Ximena,  looking  northward 

far  away. 
O'er  the  camp  of  the  invaders,  o'er  the  Mexican  array, 
Who  is  losing  ?  who  is  winning  ?  are  they  far  or  come 

they  near  ? 
Look  abroad,  and  tell  us,  sister,  whither  rolls  the  storm 

we  hear. 


iiS  THE  FIFTH  EEADEB. 

2.  *'  Down  tlie  hills  of  Angostura  still  the  storm  of 

battle  rolls ; 
Blood  is  flowing,  men  are  dying ;  God  have  mercy  on 

their  souls !" 
Who  is  losing  ?  who  is  winning  ? — "  Over  hill  and  over 

plain, 
I  rfee  but  smoke  of  cannon  clouding  through  the  moun- 
tain rain." 
B.  Holy  Mother !  keep  our  brothers !    Look,  Ximena, 

look  once  more : 
"Stni  I  see  the  fearful  whirlwind  rolling  darkly  as 

before. 
Bearing  on,  in  strange  confusion,  friend  and  foeman 

foot  and  horse, 
Like  some  wild  and  troubled  torrent  sweeping  down  its 

mountain  course." 

4.  Look  forth  once  more,  Ximena !     "  Ah  !  the  smoke 

has  rolled  away ; 
And  I  see  the  Northern  rifles  gleaming  down  the  ranks 

of  gray. 
Hark !  that  sudden  blast  of  bugles  I  there  the  troop  o£ 

Minon  wheels ; 
There  the  Northern  horses  thunder,  with  the  cannon  at 

heels. 

5.  "  Jesu,  pity !  how  it  thickens !  now  retreat  and  now 

advance ! 
Right  against  the  blazing   cannon   shivers  Puebla's 
charginp^  lance ! 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  413 

Down  they  go,  the  brave  young  riders ;  horse  and  foot 

together  fall ; 
Like  a  plowshare  in  the  fallow,  through  them  plows 

the  Northern  ball." 

6.  Nearer  came  the  storm  and  nearer,  rolling  fast  and 

frightful  on : 
Speak,  Ximena,  speak  and  tell  us,  who  has  lost  and 

who  has  won  ? 
"  Alas !  alas !  I  know  not ;  friend  and  foe  together  fall ; 
O'er  the  dying  rush  the  living :  pray,  my  sisters,  for 

them  all !" 

7.  "Lo !  the  wind  the  smoke  is  lifting :  Blessed  Mother, 

save  my  brain ! 
I  can  see  the  wounded  crawling  slowly  out  from  heaps 

of  slain  : 
Now  they  stagger,  blind  and  bleeding ;  now  they  fall, 

and  strive  to  rise ; 
Hasten,  sisters,  haste  and  save  them,  lest  ^they  die 

before  our  eyes ! 

8.  "Oh,  my  heart's  love!  oh,  my  dear  one!  lay  thy 

poor  head  on  my  knee ; 
Dost  thou  know  the  lips  that  kiss  thee  ?     Canst  thou 

hear  me?  canst  thou  see  me? 
Oh,  my  husband,  brave  and  gentle !     Oh,  my  Bernal, 

look  once  more 
On  the  blessed  cross  before  thee !     Mercy !  mercy !  all 

is  o'er!" 


414  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

9.  Dry  tliy  tears,  my  poor  Xirnena ;  lay  tliy  dear  one 

down  to  rest ; 
Let  his  hands  be  meekly  folded,  lay  the  cross  upon  his 

breast ; 
Let  his  dirge  be  sung  hereafter,  and  his  funeral  Masses 

said; 
To-day,  thou  poor  bereaved  one,  the  living  ask  thy  aid. 

10.  Close  beside  her,  faintly  moaning,  fair  and  young 

a  soldier  lay, 
Torn  with  shot  and  pierced  with  lances,  bleeding  slow 

his  life  away ; 
But,  as  tenderly  before  him,  the  lorn  Ximena  knelt, 
She  saw  the  Northern  eagle  shining  on  his  pistol-belt. 

11.  With  a  stifled  cry  of  horror  straight  she  turned 

away  her  head 
With  a  sad  and  bitter  feeling  looked  she  back  upon 

her  dead ; 
But  she  heard  the  youth's  low  moaning,  and  his  strug- 

ghng  breath  of  pain^ 
Ajid  she  raised  the  cooling  water  to  his  parching  lips 

again. 

12.  Whispered  low  the  dying  soldier,  pressed  her  hand 

and  faintly  smiled : 
Was  that  pitying  face  his   mother's  ?   did  she  watch 
beside  her  child? 


I 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  415 


All  his  stranger  words  with  mGaning  her  woman's 

heart  supplied ; 
With  her  kiss  upon  his  forehead,  "  Mother !"  murmured     >< 

he,  and  died ! 

13.  "A  bitter  curse  upon  them,  poor  boy,  who  led 

thee  forth, 
From  some  gentle  sad-eyed  mother,  weeping  lonely  in 

the  North!" 
Spake  the  mournful  Mexic  woman  as  she  laid  him 

with  her  dead. 
And  turned  to  soothe  the  living,  and  bind  the  wounds 

which  bled. 

14.  Look  forth  once  more,  Ximena  I    "  Like  a  cloud 

before  the  wind 
Rolls  the  battle  down  the  mountain,  leaving  blood  and 

death  behind ; 
Ah !  they  plead  in  vain  for  mercy ;  in  the  dust  the 

wounded  strive ; 
Hide  your  faces,  holy  angels !  Oh,  thou  Christ  of  God, 

forgive !" 

15.  Sink,  oh  night,  among  thy  mountains  !  let  the  cool, 

gray  shadows  fall ; 
Dying  brothers,  fighting   demons,  drop  thy  curtain 

over  all ! 
Through  the  thickening  winter  twilight  wide  apart  tha 

battle  rolled ; 
In  its  sheath  the  saber  rested,  and  the  cannon's  lips* 

grew  cold. 


416  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

16.  But  the  noble  Mexic  women  still  their  holy  task 

pursued, 
Through  that  long,  dark  night  of  sorrow,  worn  faint 

and  lacking  food : 
Over  weak  and  suffering  brothers  with  tender  care 

they  hung. 
And  the  dying  foeman  blessed  them  in  a  strange  and 

Northern  tongue. 

17.  Not  wholly  lost,  oh  Father  I  is  this  evil  world  of 

ours; 
Upward,  through  its  blood  and  ashes,  spring  afresh 

the  Eden  flowers ; 
From  its  smoking  hell  of  battle,  Love  and  Pity  send 

their  prayer. 
And  still  thy  white-winged  angels  hover  dimly  in  our 

air  I 


LXXXV.— CHABAOTER  AND  BURIAL  OP  DE  SOTO. 

IBVINO. 

1.  Thus  died  Hernando  de  Soto,  one  of  the  boldest 
and  the  bravest  of  the  many  brave  leaders  who  figured 
in  the  first  discoveries,  and  distinguished  themselves 
in  the  wild  warfare  of  the  Western  World.  How 
proud  and  promising  had  been  the  commencement  of 
his  career !  how  humble  and  hapless  its  close !  Cut 
off  in  the  very  vigor  and  manhood  of  his  days,  for  he 
Was  but  forty-two  years  old  when  he  expired  ;  peri;jli  • 


THE  FIFTH  KEADEE.  417 

ing  in  a  strange  and  savage  land,  amid  tlie  din  and 
tumult  of  a  camp,  and  with  merely  a  few  rough  soldiers 
to  attend  him,  for  nearly  all  were  engaged  in  the 
preparations  makiug  for  their  escape  in  this  perilous 
situation. 

2.  Hernando  de  Soto  was  well  calculated  to  com- 
mand the  independent  and  chivalric  spirits  of  which 
his  army  was  composed ;  for,  while  his  ideas  of  mili- 
tary discipline  were  very  strict,  and  he  punished  every 
breach  of  military  duty,  all  other  offenses  he  pardoned. 
No  one  was  more  prompt  to  notice  and  reward  all 
soldier-like  merit.  He  is  said  to  have  been  courteous 
and  engaging  in  his  manners,  patient  and  persevering 
under  difficulties,  encouraging  his  followers  by  his 
quiet  endurance  of  suffering. 

3.  In  his  own  person  he  was  valiant  in  the  extreme, 
and  of  such  vigor  of  arm,  that  wherever  he  passed  in 
battle,  he  is  said  to  have  hewn  himself  a  lane  through 
the  thickest  of  the  enemy.  Some  of  his  biographers 
have  accused  him  of  cruelty  toward  the  Indians  ;  but, 
according  to  the  Inca's  account,  we  find  him,  in 
general,  humane  and  merciful,  striving  to  conciliate 
the  natives  by  presents  and  kind  messages,  and  only 
resorting  to  violent  means  where  the  safety  of  himself 
and  his  followers  were  at  stake. 

4.  The  death  of  the  governor  left  his  followers  over- 
whelmed with  grief;  they  felt  as  if  made  orphans  by 
liis  lose,  for  they  looked  up  to  hira  as  a  father :  and 


118  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

chey  sorrowed  the  more,  because  tliey  could  not  give 
liim  a  proper  sepulture,  nor  perform  tlie  solemn  obse- 
quies due  to  the  remains  of  a  captain  and  commander 
BO  much  beloved  and  honored. 

5.  They  feared  to  bury  him  publicly  and  with  be- 
coming ceremonials,  lest  the  Indians  should  discover 
the  place  of  his  interment,  and  should  outrage  and 
insult  his  remains,  as  they  had  done  those  of  other  Spa- 
niards— tearing  them  fi-om  their  graves,  dismember- 
ing them,  and  hanging  them  piecemeal  from  the  trees. 
If  they  had  shown  such  indignities  to  the  bodies  of  the 
common  soldiers,  how  much  greater  would  they  in- 
flict upon  that  of  their  governor  and  commander  ? 
Besides,  De  Soto  had  impressed  them   with  a  very 

*  exalted  opinion  of  his  prudence  and  valor,  and  the 
Spaniards,  therefore,  dreaded,  lest,  finding  out  the 
death  of  their  leader,  they  might  be  induced  to  revolt, 
and  fall  upon  their  handful  of  troops. 

6.  For  these  reasons  they  buried  him  in  the  dead  of 
night,  with  sentinels  posted  to  keep  the  natives  at  a 
distance,  that  the  sad  ceremony  might  be  safe  from 
the  observation  of  their  spies.  The  place  chosen  for 
his  sepulture  was  one  of  many  pits,  broad  and  deep, 
in  a  plain  near  to  the  village  from  whence  the  Indians 
had  taken  earth  for  their  buildings.  Here  he  was 
interred,  in  silence  and  in  secret,  with  many  tears  of 
the  priests  and  cavahers  who  were  present  at  his 
mournful  obsequien. 


THE  FIFTH  READER.  419 

7.  The  better  to  deceive  the  Indians  and  prevent 
their  suspecting  the  place  of  his  interment,  they  gave 
out,  on  the  following  day,  that  the  governor  was  re- 
covering from  his  malady,  and,  mounting  their  horses, 
they  assumed  an  appearance  of  rejoicing.  That  all 
traces  of  the  grave  might  be  lost,  they  caused  much 
water  to  be  sprinkled  over  it,  and  upon  the  surround- 
ing plain,  as  if  to  prevent  the  dust  being  raised  by 
their  horses.  They  then  scoured  the  plain,  and  gal- 
loped about  the  pit,  and  over  the  very  grave  of  their 
commander  :  but  it  was  difficult,  under  this  cover  of 
pretended  gayety,  to  conceal  the  real  sadness  of  their 
hearts. 

8.  With  all  these  precautions  they  soon  found  out 
that  the  Indians  suspected  not  only  the  death  of  the 
governor,  but  the  place  where  he  lay  buried ;  for  in 
passing  by  the  pits,  they  would  stop,  look  round  atten- 
tively on  all  sides,  talk  with  one  another,  and  make 
signs  with  their  chins  and  their  eyes  toward  the  spot 
where  the  body  was  interred. 

9.  The  Spaniards  perceiving  this,  and  feeling  that 
the  Indians  would  search  the  whole  plain  until  they 
found  the  body,  determined  to  disinter  it,  and  place  it 
where  it  would  be  secure  from  molestation.  No  phico 
appeared  better  suited  to  the  purpose  than  the  Missis- 
sippi ;,but  first  they  wished  to  ascertain  whether  tliere 
was  sufficient  depth  to  hide  the  body  effectually.  Ac- 
cordingly, Juan  de  Anasco,  and  other  officers,  taking 


420  THE   FIFTH   READEll 

with  them  a  mariner,  embarked  one  evening  in  a  canoei, 
under  pretense  of  fishing  and  amusing  themselves ; 
and,  sounding  the  river  where  it  was  a  quarter  of  a 
league  wide,  thej  found,  in  the  mid-channel,  a  depth 
of  nineteen  fathoms.  Here,  therefore,  they  determined 
to  deposit  the  body. 

10;  As  there  was  no  stone  in  the  neighborhood 
wherewith  to  sink  it,  they  cut  down  an  evergreen  oak, 
and  made  an  excavation  in  one  side,  of  the  size  of  a 
man.  On  the  following  night,  with  all  the  silence 
possible,  they  disinterred  the  body,  and  placed  it  in 
the  trunk  of  the  oak,  nailing  planks  over  the  aperture. 
Thexustic  coffin  was  then  conveyed  to  the  center  of  the 
river,  where,  in  presence  of  several  priests  and  cava- 
liers, it  was  committed  to  the  stream,  and  they  behold 
it  sink  to  the  bottom  ;  shedding  many  tears  over  this 
second  funeral  rite,  and  commending  anew  the  soul  of 
the  good  cavalier  to  heaven. 

11.  The  Indians  soon  perceiving  that  the  governor 
was  not  with  the  army,  nor  buried  as  they  had  sup- 
posed, demanded  of  the  Spaniards  where  he  was.  The 
general  reply,  prepared  for  the  occasion,  was,  that 
God  had  sent  for  him,  to  communicate  to  him  great 
things,  which  he  was  commanded  to  perform,  as  soon 
as  he  should  return  to  earth.  With  this  answer  the 
Indians  remained  apparently  content. 

12.  The  Cacique,  however,  who  beheved  him  to  be 
4ead,  sent  two  handsome  young  Indians  to  Moscoso 


THE  FIFTH  KEADER.  421 

with  the  message,  that  it  was  the  custom  of  his  coun- 
try, when  any  great  prince  died,  to  put  to  death  some 
persons  to  attend  him,  and  serve  him  on  his  journey  to 
the  land  of  spirits ;  and  for  that  purpose  these  young 
men  presented  themselves.  Luis  de  Moscoso  replied, 
that  the  governor  was  not  dead,  but  gone  to  heaven, 
and  had  chosen  some  of  his  Christian  followers  to 
attend  him  there ;  he  therefore  prayed  Guachoya  to 
receive  again  the  two  Indian  youths,  and  to  renounce 
so  barbarous  a  custom  for  the  future.  He  accordingly 
set  the  Indians  at  liberty  on  the  spot,  and  ordered 
them  to  return  to  their  homes  ;  bat  one  of  them  re- 
fused to  go,  saying  he  would  not  serve  a  master  wlic 
had  condemned  him  to  death  without  a  cause,  but 
would  ever  follow  one  who  had  saved  his  life. 

13.  De  Soto's  effects,  consisting  in  all  of  two  slaves, 
three  horses,  and  seven  hundred  swine,  were  disposed 
of  at  public  sale.  The  slaves  and  horses  were  sold  ^br 
three  thousand  crowns  each  ;  the  money  to  be  paid  by 
the  purchaser  on  the  first  discovery  of  any  gold  or 
silver  mines,  or  as  soon  as  he  should  be  proprietor  of  a 
plantation  in  Florida.  Should  neither  of  these  events 
come  to  pass,  the  buyer  pledged  himself  to  pay  the 
money  within  a  year.  The  swine  were  sold  in  like 
manner,  at  two  hundred  crowns  apiece.  Henceforth, 
the  greater  number  of  the  soldiers  possessed  this  de- 
sirable article  of  food,  which  they  ate  of  on  all  days 
Ba,ve   Fridays,   Saturdays,   aad   the   eves   of  festivals, 


422  THE  FIFTH  READER. 

which  they  rigidly  observed,  according  to  the  customs 
of  the  Koman  Catholics. 

After  vainly  tryiug  to  reach  Mexico  through  the  forests,  the  leninant 
of  his  followers  built  seven  frail  barks,  and  sailed  down  the  Missis- 
Bippi,  reaching  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  in  seventeen  days.  They  then 
sailed  along  the  coast  of  Mexico,  and,  after  a  voyage  of  about  fifty 
days,  finally  arrived  at  a  Spanish  settlement  (Sept,  10,  1543), 

The  word  Misnissippi  is  a  corrupted  Indian  name  {Micke  Sepe), 
meaning,  literally,  *•  Father  of  Waters."  After  the  events  above  re- 
lated, no  farther  exploration  of  the  river  or  of  its  adjacent  regions  was 
made  until  the  French,  under  La  Salle,  explored  the  valley,  descend- 
ing the  river  as  far  as  its  mouth  in  1691,  eight  years  after  which  an 
attempt  at  settlement  was  made  by  IberviUe.  This  region  was  named 
Louisiana,  in  honor  of  Louis  XVI.,  King  of  France. 


LXXXVL— THE  ENGLISH  INVADEES. 

M.    P.    CUSA.CK. 

Sister  Mary  Fi-ancis  Clare  (M.  F.  Gusack),  from  whose  History  of 
Ii-eland  the  following  has  been  taken,  is  a  Franciscan  Sister.  She 
resides,  at  present,  at  the  convent  of  Kenmare,  Ireland.  She  is  the 
author  of  a  Life  of  St.  Francis  and  a  Historical  Sketch  of  the  Francis- 
can Order,  and  of  several  other  popular  and  well-written  books. 

1.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  certain  Anglo-Norman 
nobles  came  to  Ireland,  and,  partly  by  force  and  partly 
by  intermarriages,  obtained  estates  in  that  country. 
Their  tenure  was  the  tenure  of  the  sword.  By  the 
sword  they  expelled  persons  whose  families  had  pos- 
sessed those  lands  for  centuries;  and  by  the  sword 
they  compelled  these  persons,  through  poverty,  con- 
sequent on  loss  of  property,  to  take  the  position  of  in- 
feriors where  they  had  been  masters.  You  will  ob- 
serve that  Ibis  first  English  settlement  in  Ireland  was 


THE  FIFTH  READEK.  423 

simply  a  colonization  on  a  very  small  scale.  Under 
such  circuinstances,  if  tW'native  population  are  averse 
to  the  colonization,  and  if  the  new  and  the  old  races 
do  not  amalgamate,  a  settled  feeling  of  aversion,  more 
or  less  strong,  is  established  on  both  sides.  The 
natives  hate  the  celonist,  because  he  has  done  them  a 
grievous  injury  by  taking  possession  of  their  lands; 
the  colonist  hates  the  natives,  because  they  are  in  his 
way ;  and,  if  he  be  possessed  of  "  land  hunger,"  they 
are  an  impediment  to  the  gratification  of  his  desires. 
It  should  be  observed  that  there  is  a  wide  difference 
between  colonization  and  conquest. 

2.  The  Saxons  conquered  what  we  may  presume  to 
have  been  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  England ;  the 
Normans  conquered  the  Saxon  :  the  conquest  in  both 
cases  was  sufficiently  complete  to  amalgamate  the 
races — the  interest  of  the  different  nationalities  became 
one.  The  Norman  lord  scorned  the  Saxon  churl  quite 
as  contemptuously  as  he  scorned  the  Irish  Celt ;  but 
there  was  this  very  important  difference—  the  interests 
of  the  noble  and  the  churl  soon  became  one ;  they 
worked  for  the  prosperity  of  their  common  country. 
In  Ireland,  on  the  contrary,  the  interests  were  oppo- 
site. The  Norman  noble  hated  the  Celt  as  a  people 
he  could  not  subdue,  but  desired  most  ardently  to  dis- 
possess; the  Celt  hated  the  invader  as  a  man  most 
naturally  will  hate  the  individual  who  is  just  strong 
enough  to  keep  a  wound  open  by  his  struggles,  and 


124  THE  FIFTH   KEADEK. 

not  strong  enough  to  end  tlie  suffering  by  killing  Iha 
victim. 

3.  For  centuries  Ireland  was  left  to  tne  mercy  and 
the  selfishness  of  colonists.  Thus,  with  each  succeed- 
ing generation,  the  feeHng  of  hatred  towards  the 
English  was  intensified  with  each  nfew  act  of  injustice, 
and  such  acts  were  part  of  the  normal  rule  of  the  in- 
vaders. A  lord  deputy  was  sent  after  a  time  to  rule 
the  country.  Perhaps  a  more  unfortunate  form  of 
government  could  not  have  been  selected  for  Ireland. 
The  lord  deputy  knew  that  he  was  subject  to  recall  at 
any  moment ;  he  had  neither  a  personal  nor  a  heredi- 
tary interest  in  the  country.  He  came  to  make  his 
fortune  there,  or  to  increase  it.  He  came  to  rule  for 
his  own  benefit,  or  for  the  benefit  of  his  nation.  The 
worst  of  kings  has,  at  least,  an  hereditary  interest  in 
the  country  which  he  governs ;  the  best  of  lord 
deputies  might  say  that,  if  he  did  not  oppress  and 
plunder  for  himself,  other  men  would  do  it  foi-  them- 
selves: why,  then,  should  he  be  the  loser,  when  the 
people  would  not  be  gainers  by  his  loss  ? 


LXXXVEL— IRELAND  AND  THE  IRISH. 

GILES. 

1.  Much  there  is  in  Ireland  that  we  most  dearly  love. 
We  love  its  music,  sweet  and  sad,  and  low  and  lonely ; 
it  comes  with  a  pathos,  a  melancholy,  a  melody,  on  the 
pulses  of  the  heart,  that  no  other  music  breathes,  and 
while  it  grieves  it  soothes. 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  425 

2.  It  seems  to  flow  with  long  complaint  over  the 
course  of  ages,  or  to  grasp  with  broken  sobs  through 
the  ruins  and  fragments  of  historic  thought.  We  are 
glad  with  the  humor  of  Ireland,  so  buoyant  and  yet  so 
tender,  quaint  with  smiles,  quivering  with  sentiment, 
pursing  up  the  lips  T^hile  it  bedews  the  eyelids. 

3-  We  admire  the  bravery  of  Ireland,  which  may 
have  been  broken  but  never  has  been  bent, — which  has 
often  been  unfortunate,  but  which  never  has  been 
craven.  We  have  much  affection  for  the  Irisli^  char- 
acter. We  give  unfeigned  praise  to  that  purity  of  feel- 
ing which  surrounds  Irish  women  in  the  humblest 
class,  and  amidst  the  coarsest  occupations,  with  an  at- 
mosphere of  sanctity. 

4.  We  acknowledge  with  heartfelt  satisfaction  that 
kindred  love  in  the  Irish  poor,  that  no  distance  can 
weaken,  and  that  no  time  can  chill.  We  feel  satisfied 
with  our  humanity,  when  we  see  the  lowly  servant  girl 
calling  for  her  wages,  or  drawing  on  the  savings'  bank 
for  funds,  to  take  tears  from  the  eyes  of  a  widowed 
mother  in  Connaught,  or  fears  from  the  soul  of  an  aged 
father  in  Munster. 

6.  We  behold  a  radiance  of  grandeur  around  the 
head  of  the  railroad  laborer,  as  he  bounds,  three 
thousand  miles  away,  at  the  sound  of  repeal,  at  the 
name  of  O'Connell,  and  yet  more  as  his  hand  shakes, 
as  he  takes  a  letter  from  the  post-office,  which,  rude  as 
it  may  be  in  superscription,  is  a  messenger  from  the 


^6  THE  FIFTH  READER. 


1 


cot  in  whicli  liis  childhood  lay,  is  an  angel  from  the 
fields,  the  hills,  the  streams,  the  mountains,  and  the 
moors  wherein  his  boyhood  sported. 

6.  We  remember,  with  many  memories  of  delight, 
too,  the  beauties  of  Ireland's  scenery.  We  recollect 
the  fields  that  are  ever  green  ;  the  hills  that  bloom  to 
the  summit ;  the  streamlets  that  in  sweetness  seem  to 
sing  her  legends  ;  the  valleys  where  the  fairies  play  ; 
the  voices  among  her  glens,  that  sound  from  her  winds 
as  w^h  the  spirit  of  her  bards;  the  shadow  of  her 
ruins  at  moonlight,  that  in  pale  and  melancholy  splen- 
dor appear  like  the  ghosts  of  her  ancient  heroes. 


LXXXVIIL^THE  OKAYANAGH. 

J.   ACGUaXUS    SHEA. 

1.  The  Saxons  had  met,  and  the  banquet  was  spread, 
And  the  wine  in  fleet  circles  the  jubilee  led  ; 

And  the  banners  that  hung  round  the  festal  that  night. 
Seemed  brighter  by  far  than  when  Hf ted  in  fight. 

2.  In  came  the  O'Kavanagh,  fair  as  the  morn. 
When  earth  to  new  beauty  and  vigor  is  born ; 

They  shrank  from  his  glance,  like  the  waves  from  the 

prow, 
For  nature's  nobility  sat  on  his  brow. 

3   Attended  alone  by  his  vassal  and  bard — 
No  trumpet  to  herald,  no  clansmen  to  guard — 
He  came  not  attended  by  steed  or  by  steel : . 
No  danger  he  knew,  for  no  fear  did  he  feel. 


THE  FIFTH   READER  427 

4.  In  eje  and  on  lip  his  liigh  confidence  smiled — 
So  proud,  yet  so  knightly — so  gallant,  yet  mild ; 
He  moved  like  a  god  through  the  Hght  of  that  hall, 
And  a  smile,  full  of  courtliness,  proffered  to  all. 

6.  "  Come  pledge  us,  lord  chieftain !  come  pledge  us  1" 

they  cried ;  ^ 

Unsuspectingly  free  to  the  pledge  he  replied ; 
And  this  was  the  peace-branch  O'Kavanagh  bore — 
"  The  friendships  to  come,  not  the  feuds  that  are  o'er !" 

6.  But,  minstrel,  why  cometh  a  change  o'er  thy  theme  ? 
Why  sing  of  red  battle — what  dream  dost  thou  dream? 
Ha !  "  Treason !  's  the  cry,  and  "  Eevenge !"  is  the  call, 
As  the  swords  of  the  Saxon  surrounded  the  hall ! 

7.  A  kingdom  for  Angelo's  mind !  to  portray 
Green  Erin's  undaunted  avenger  that  day ; 

The  far-flashing  sword,  and  the  death-darting  eye. 
Like  some  comet  commissioned  with  wrath  from  the 
sky. 

8.  Through  the  rank^  of  the  Saxon  he  hewed  his  red 

way- 
Through  lances,  and  sabres,  and  hostile  array ; 
And,  mounting  his  charger,  he  left  them  to  tell 
The  tale  of  that  feast,  and  its  bloody  farewell. 

9.  And  now  on  the  Saxons  his  clansmen  advance, 
'^Viih  a  shout  from  each  heart,  and  a  soul  in  each 

lance : 


428  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

He  rushed,  like  a  storm,  o'er  the  night-covered  heath, 
And  swept  through  their  ranks,  like  the  angel  of  death. 

10.   Then  hurrah!   for    thy    glory,    young  chieftain, 

hurrah ! 
Oh !  had  we  such  lightning-souled  heroes  to-day, 
Again  tfould  our  "  sunburst"  expand  in  the  gale, 
And  Freedom  exult  o'er  the  green  Innisfail  1 


LXXXIX-— THE  BATTLE  OP  CLONTAEF. 
M.  r.  cnsACK. 

1.  The  storm  was  now  gathering  in  earnest,  and  the 
most  active  preparations  w^ere  made  on  both  sides  for 
a  mighty  and  decisive  conflict.  The  Danes  had  al- 
ready obtained  possession  of  England,  a  country  which 
had  always  been  united  in  its  resistance  to  their  power, 
a  country  numerically  superior  to  Ireland :  why  should 
they  not  hope  to  conquer,  with  at  least  equal  facility,  a 
people  who  had  so  many  opposing  interests,  and  who 
rarely  sacrificed  these  interests  to  the  common  good? 
Still  they  must  have  had  some  fear  of  the  result,  if  we 
may  judge  by  the  magnitude  of  their  preparations. 
They  despatched  ambassadors  in  all  directions  to  ob- 
tain reinforcements.  Brodir,  the  earl,  and  Amlaibh, 
SOD  of  the  King  of  Lochlann,  "  the  two  Earls  of  Cair, 
and  of  all  the  north  of  Saxon  land, "  came  at  the  head 
oi  2,000  men ;  "  and  there  was  not  one  villain  of  that 


THE  fiFTH  KEADER.  429 

2,000  who  had  not  polished,  strong,  triple-plated 
armor  of  refined  iron,  or  of  cooling,  uncorroding 
brass,  encasing  their  sides  and  body  from  head  to 
foot."  Moreover,  the  said  villains  "tad  no  reverence, 
veneration,  or  respect,  or  mercy  for  God  or  man,  for 
church  or  for  sanctuary ;  they  were  cruel,  ferocious, 
plundering,  hard-hearted,  wonderful  Dannarbrians, 
selling  and  hiring  themselves  for  gold  and  silver,  and 
other  treasure  as  well." 

2.  Gormflaith  was  evidently  "  head  centre  "  on  the 
occasion ;  for  we  find  wonderful  accounts  of  her  zeal 
and  efforts  in  collecting  forces.  "  Other  treasure " 
may  possibly  be  referred  to  that  lady's  heart  and  hand, 
of  which  she  appears  to  be  very  liberal  on  this  oc- 
casion. She  despatched  her  son,  Sitric,  to  Siguard, 
Earl,  of  the  Orkneys,  who  promised  his  assistance,  but 
he  required  the  hand  of  Gormflaith  as  payment  for  his 
services,  and  that  he  should  be  made  King  of  Ireland. 
Sitric  gave  the  required  promise,  and  found  on  his  re- 
turn to  Dublin,  that  it  met  with  his  mother's  entire  ap- 
probation. She  then  despatched  him  to  the  Isle  of 
Man,  where  there  were  two  Yikings,  who  had  thirty 
ships  and  she  desired  him  to  obtain  their  co-operation  " 
at  any  price."  They  were  the  brothers  Ospak  and 
Brodir.  The  latter  demanded  the  same  conditions  as 
the  Earl  Siguard,  which  were  promised  quite  as  readily 
by  Sitric,only  he  charged  the  Yiking  to  keep  the  agree- 
ment secret,  above  all  not  to  mention  it  to  Siguard. 


480  THE  FIFTH   EftlDER. 

3.  Brodir,^  according  to  the  Saga,  Tvas  an  apostate 
Christian,  who  had  "  thro\\Ti  off  his  faith,  and  become 
God's  dastard."  He  was  both  tall  and  strong,  and 
had  such  long  black  hair  that  he  tacked  it  under  his 
bolt ;  he  had  also  the  reputation  of  being  a  magician. 
The  Viking  Ospak  refused  to  fight  against  "  the  good 
King  Brian,"  and,  touched  by  some  prodigies,  became 
a  convert  to  Christianity,  joined  the  Irish  monarch  at 
Kincora,  on  the  Shannon,  and  received  holy  baptism. 
The  author  of  the  JVars  of  the  Gaedhil  gives  a  formid- 
able hst  of  the  other  auxiliaries  who  were  invited  by 
the  Dublin  Danes.  The  Annals  of  Loch  Ce  also  give 
an  account  of  the  fleet  he  assembled,  and  its  "  chosen 
braves."  Maelmordha  had  mustered  a  large  army 
also ;  indeed,  he  was  too  near  the  restless  and  revenge- 
ful Lady  Gormflaith  to  have  taken  matters  quietly, 
even  had  he  been  so  incUned. 

4  Meanwhile  Brian  had  been  scarcely  less  success- 
ful, and  probably  not  less  active.  He  now  marched 
towards  Dublin,  "  with  all  that  obeyed  him  of  the  men 
of  Ireland."  These  were  the  provincial  troops  of 
Munster  and  Connaught  and  the  men  of  Meath.  His 
march  is  thus  described  in  the  JVars  of  the  Gaedhil : — 
"  Brian  looked  out  behiad  him,  and  beheld  the  battle 
phalanx — compact,  huge,  discipHned,  moving  in  silence, 

*  It  has  been  suggested  that  this  was  not  his  real  name.  He  was 
Ospak's  brother,  and  Brodir  may  have  been  mistaken  for  a  proper 
name.  There  was  a  Danish  Viking  named  Gutring,  who  was  an  apoa* 
tute  deacon,  and  who  may  have  been  thq  Brodir  of  Irish  history. 


THE  FUTTII   READER.  431 

mutely,  bravely,  hauglitily,  unitedly,  with  one  mind, 
traversing  the  plain  towards  them  ;  threescore  and  ten 
banners  over  them — of  red,  and  of  yellow,  and  of 
green,  and  of  all  kinds  of  colors ;  together  with  the 
everlasting,  variegated,  hicky,  fortunate  banner,  that 
had  gained  the  victory  in  every  battle,  and  in  every 
conflict,  and  in  every  combat." 

5.  The  site  of  the  battle  has  been  accurately  defined. 
It  took  place  on  the  plain  of  Clontarf,  ^  and  is  called 
the  Battle  of  the  Fishing  Weir  of  Clontarf.  The  weir 
was  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Tolka,  where  the  bridge 
of  Ballybough  now  stands.  The  Danish  line  was  ex- 
tended along  the  coast,  and  protected  at  sea  by  their 
fleets.  It  was  disposed  in  three  divisions,  and  com- 
prised about  21,000  men,  the  Leinster  forces  being  in- 
cluded in  the  number.  The  first  division  or  left  wing 
was  the  nearest  to  Dublin.  It  was  composed  of  the 
Danes  of  Dubhn,  and  headed  by  Sitric,  who  was  sup- 
ported by  the  thousand  mail-clad  Norwegians,  com- 
manded by  Carlus  and  Anrud.  In  the  centre  were  the 
Langennians,    under   the   command   of    Mselmordha. 

*  There  is  curious  evidence  that  the  account  of  the  battle  of  Clon- 
tarf must  have  been  written  by  an  eye-witness,  or  by  one  who  had  ob- 
tained his  information  from  an  eye-witness.  The  author  states  that 
• '  the  foreigners  came  out  to  fight  the  battle  in  the  morning  at  the  full 
tide,"  and  that  the  tide  came  iu  again  in  the  evening  at  the  same 
place.  The  Danes  suffered  severely  from  this,  "  for  the  tide  had 
carried  away  their  ships  from  them."  Consequently,  hundreds  per- 
ished in  the  waves.  — TFars  of  the  Gaedhil,  p.  191. 


132  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

The  right  wing  comprised  the  foreign  auxiUaries,  under 
the  command  of  Brodir  and  Siguard. 

6.  Brian's  army  was  also  disposed  in  three  divisions. 
The  first  was  composed  of  his  brave  Dalcassians,  and 
commanded  by  his  son  Murrough,  assisted  by  his  four 
brothers,  Teigue,  Donough,  Connor,  and  Flann,  and 
his  youthful  heir,  Turlough^  who  perished  on  the  field. 
The  second  division  or  center  was  composed  of  troops 
from  Munster,  and  was  commanded  by  Mothla,  grand- 
son of  the  King  of  the  Deisi,  of  Waterford,  assisted  by 
many  native  princes.  The  third  battalion  was  com- 
manded by  Maelruanaidh  (Mulrooney  of  the  Pater- 
nosters) and  Teigue  O'Kelly,  with  all  the  nobles  of 
Connaught.  Brian's  army  numbered  about  twenty 
thousand  men.  The  accounts  which  relate  the  posi- 
tion of  Mai  achy,  and  his  conduct  on  this  occasion,  are 
hopelessly  conflicting.  It  appears  quite  impossible  to 
decide  whether  he  was  a  victim  to  prejudice,  or 
whether  Brian  was  a  victim  to  his  not  unnatural  hos- 
tihty. 

7.  On  the  eve  of  the  battle,  one  of  the  Danish  chiefs, 
Plait,  son  of  King  Lochlainn,  sent  a  challenge  to  Domh- 
nall,  son  of  Emhin,  High  Steward  of  Mar.  The  battle 
commenced  at  daybreak.  Plait  came  forth  and  ex- 
claimed three  times,  "  Faros  JDomhnall  ?"  (Where  is 
Domhnall?)  Domhnall  replied  :  "Here,  thou  reptile." 
A  terrible  hand-to-hand  combat  ensued.  They  fell 
dead  at  the  same  moment,  the  sword  of  each  through 


THE  FOURTH   READER.  433 

the  lieart  of  the  other,  and  the  hair  of  each  in  the 
clenched  hand  of  the  other.  And  the  combat  of  those 
two  was  the  first  combat  of  the  battle. 

8.  Before  the  engagement  Brian  harangued  his 
troops,  with  the  crucifix  in  one  hand  and  a  sword  in 
the  other.  He  reminded  them  of  all  they  had  suffered 
from  their  enemies,  of  their  tyranny,  their  sacrilege, 
their  innumerable  perfidies ;  and  then,  holding  the 
crucifix  aloft,  he  exclaimed :  "  The  great  God  has  at 
length  looked  down  upon  our  sufferings,  and  endued 
you  with  the  power  and  the  courage  this  day  to  destroy 
for  ever  the  tyranny  of  the  Danes,  and  thus  to  punish 
them  for  their  innumerable  crimes  and  sacrileges  by 
the  avenging  power  of  the  sword.  Was  it  not  on  this 
day  that  Christ  Himself  suffered  death  for  you  ?" 

9.  The  mailed  armor  of  the  Danes  seems  to  have 
been  a  source  of  no  little  dread  to  their  opponents. 
But  the  Irish  battle-axe  might  well  have  set  even  more 
secure  protection  at  defiance.  It  was  wielded  with 
such  skUl  and  force,  that  frequently  a  limb  was  lopped 
off  with  a  single  blow,  despite  the  mail  in  which  it  was 
encased ;  while  the  short  lances,  darts,  and  shnging- 
stones  proved  a  speedy  means  of  decapitating  or  stun- 
ning a  fallen  enemy. 

10.  The  Dalcassians  surpassed  themselves  in  feats 
of  arms.  They  hastened  from  time  to  time  to  refresh 
their  thirst  and  cool  their  hands  in  a  neighboring 
brook  ;  but  the  Danes  soon  fiUed  it  up.  and  deprived 


434  THE   FIFTH   READER. 

them  of  this  resource.  It  was  a  conflict  of  heroes — a 
haiid-to-hand  fight.  Bravery  was  not  wanting  on 
either  side,  and  for  a  time  the  result  seemed  doubtful. 
Towards  the  afternoon,  as  many  of  the  Danish  leaders 
were  cut  down,  their  followers  began  to  give  way,  and 
the  Irish  forces  prepared  for  a  final  effort.  At  this 
moment  the  Norwegian  prince,  Anrud,  encountered 
Murrough,  whose  arms  were  paralyzed  from  fatigue ; 
he  had  still  physical  strength  enough  to  seize  his 
enemy,  fling  him  on  the  ground,  and  plunge  his  sword 
into  the  body  of  his  prostrate  foe.  But  even  as  he  in- 
flicted the  death-wound,  he  received  a  mortal  blow 
from  the  dagger  of  the  Dane,  and  the  two  chiefs  fell 
together. 

11.  The  melee  was  too  general  for  an  individual  in- 
cident, however  important  in  itself,  to  have  much  effect. 
The  Northmen  and  their  alUes  were  flying  hard  and 
fast,  the  one  towards  their  ships,  the  others  towards 
the  city.  But  as  they  fled  across  the  Tolka,  they  for- 
got that  it  was  now  swollen  with  the  incoming  tide, 
and  thousands  perished  by  water  who  had  escaped  the 
sword. 


XC— THE  CRUELTY  OF  CEOMWELL  IN  IRELAND. 

M.    P.    CTJSACK 

1.  Cromwell  was  now  master  of  England,  and  ruled 
with  all  that  authority  which  is  so  freely  granted  to  a 
revolutionary  leader,  and  so  often  denied  to  a  lawful 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  435 

monarch.  Tho  great  body  of  the  EngUsh  stood 
aghast  with  horror  when  they  discovered  that  regicide, 
and  the  substitution  of  an  illegal  tyranny  for  one 
which  at  least  was  legal,  was  the  end  of  all  their  hopes. 
The  new  ruler  was  aware  of  the  precariousness  of  his 
position.  The  safety  of  his  head,  as  well  as  the  con- 
tinuance of  his  power,  depended  on  the  caprice  of  the 
multitude ;  and  he  saw  that  the  sword  alone  could 
maintain  him  in  the  elevated  position  to  which  he  had 
risen,  and  the  still  more  elevated  position  to  which  he 
aspired.  We  scarcely  imagine  him  to  have  been  more 
religious  or  less  humane  than  many  of  his  contempo- 
raries, though  it  is  evident  that  he  required  a  great 
show  of  the  kind  of  religion  then  fashionable  to  sup- 
port his  character  as  a  reformer,  and  that  he  con- 
sidered himself  obliged  to  exercise  wholesale  cruelties 
to  consolidate  his  power. 

2.  The  rightful  heir  to  the  English  throne  was  then 
at  the  Hague,  uncertain  how  to  act  and  whither  he 
should  turn  his  steps.  He  wished  to  visit  Ireland, 
where  he  would  have  been  received  with  enthusiastic 
loyalty  by  the  Catholics ;  but  Ormonde  persuaded  him, 
from  sinister  motives,  to  defer  his  intention.  Ormonde 
and  I^chiquin  now  took  the  field  together.  The  for- 
mer advanced  to  Dublin,  and  the  latter  to  Drogheda. 
This  town  was  held  by  a  Parliamentary  garrison,  who 
capitulated  on  honorable  terms.  Monk  and  Owen 
O'Neil,  in  the  meantime,  were  acting  in  concert,  and 


43f^  THE  FIFTH   KEADER. 

Inchiquin  captured  supplies  which  the  English  Gene- 
ral was  sending  to  the  Irish  chief.  Newry,  Dundalk. 
and  the  often-disputed  and  famous  Castle  of  Trim 
surrendered  to  him,  and  he  marched  back  to  Ormonde 
in  triumph.  As  there  appeared  no  hope  of  reducing 
Dublin  except  bj  famine,  it  was  regularly  blockaded ; 
and  the  Earl  wrote  to  Charles  to  inform  him  that  his 
men  were  so  loyal,  he  could  "  persuade  half  his  army 
to  starve  outright  for  his  Majesty." 

3.  Ormonde  now  moved  his  camp  from  Finglas  to 
Bathmines,  and  at  the  same  time  reinforcements  ar- 
rived for  the  garrison,  under  the  command  of  Colonels 
Keynolds  and  Yenables.  The  besiegers  made  an 
attempt  to  guard  the  liver,  and -for  this  purpose,  Ma- 
jor-General  Purcell  was  sent  to  take  possession  of  the 
ruined  Castle  of  Bagotrath,  about  a  mile  from  the 
camp.  Ormonde  professed  to  have  expected  4an  "attack 
during  the  night,  and  kept  his  men  under  arms;  but 
just  as  he  had  retired  to  rest,  an  alarm  was  given. 
Colonel  Jones  had  made  a  sortie  from  the  city ;  the 
sortie  became  for  a  brief  moment  an  engagement,  and 
ended  in  a  total  rout.  The  Earl  was  suspected  ;  and 
whether  he  had  been  guilty  of  treachery  or  of  careless- 
ness, he  lost  his  credit,  and  soon  after  left  the  king- 
dom. 

4.  Cromwell  had  been  made  Lieutenant-General  of 
the  English  army  in  Ireland,  but  as  yet  he  had  been 
unable  to  take  the  command  in  person.     His  positior 


THE   FIFTH   EILiDEE.  437 

was  precarious ;  and  lie  wished  to  secure  Lis  influence 
still  more  firmly  in  liis  own  country,  before  he  at- 
tempted the  conquest  of  another.  He  had  succeeded 
so  far  in  the  accomplishment  of  his  plans,  that  his  de- 
parture and  his  journey  to  Bristol  were  undertaken  in 
royal  style.  He  left  the  metroplis  early  in  June,  in  a 
coach  drawn  by  six  gallant  Flanders'  mares,  and  con- 
cluded his  progress  at  Milford  Haven,  where  he  em- 
barked, reaching  Ireland  on  the  14th  of  August,  1649. 
He  was  attended  by  some  of  the  most  famous  of  '  the 
Parliamentary  Generals — his  son,  Henry,  the  future 
Lord  Deputy  ;  Monk,  Blake,  Ireton,  Waller,  Ludlow, 
and  others.  He  brought  with  him,  for  the  propagation 
of  the  Gospel  and  the  Commonwealth,  £200,000  in 
money,  eight  regiments  of  foot,  six  of  horse,  several 
troops  of  dragoons,  a  large  supply  of  Bibles,*  and  a 
corresponding  provision  of  ammunition  and  scythes. 
The  Bibles  were  to  be  distributed  amongst  his  soldiers, 
and  to  be  given  to  the  poor  unfortunate  natives,  who 
could  not  understand  a  word  of  their  contents.  The 
scythes  and  sickles  were  to  deprive  them  of  all  means 
of  living,  and  to  preach  a  ghastly  commentary  on  the 
conduct  of  the  men  who  wished  to  convert  them  to  the 
new  Gospel,  which  certainly  was  not  one  of  peace. 
Cromwell  now  issued  two  proclamations :  one  against 

*  See  '*  The  Cromwellian  Settlement  of  Ireland,"  by  John  P.  Pren- 
dergaat,  Esq.  The  scythes  and  sickles  were  to  cut  down  the  corn,  thut 
the  Irish  might  be  starved  if  they  could  not  be  conquered. 


4:38  THE  FIFTH   EEADER. 

iutemperance,  for  he  knew  well  the  work  that  was 
before  him,  and  he  could  not  afford  to  have  a  single 
drunken  soldier  in  his  camp.  The  other  proclamation 
prohibited  plundering  the  country  people :  it  was 
scarcely  less  prudent.  His  soldiers  might  any  day 
become  his  masters,  if  they  were  not  kept  under  strict 
control ;  and  there  are  few  things  which  so  effectually 
lessen  military  discipline  as  permission  to  plunder  :  he 
also  wished  to  encourage  the  country  people  to  bring 
in  provisions.     His  arrangements  all  succeeded. 

5.  Ormonde  had  garrisoned  Drogheda  with  3,000  of 
his  choicest  troops.  They  were  partly  English,  and 
were  commanded  by  a  brave  loyalist,  Sir  Arthur  Aston. 
This  was  really  the  most  important  town  in  Ireland ; 
and  Cromwell,  whose  skill  as  a  mihtary  general  can- 
not be  disputed,  at  once  determined  to  lay  siege  to  it 
He  encamped  before  the  devoted  city  on  the  2nd  of 
September,  and  in  a  few  days  had  his  siege  guns 
posted  on  the  hill,  still  known  as  Cromwell's  Fort. 
Two  breaches  were  made  on  the  10th,  and  he  sent  in 
his  storming  parties  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
Earthworks  had  been  thrown  up  inside,  and  the  garri- 
son resisted  with  undiminished  bravery.  The  besieged 
at  last  wavered ;  quarter  was  promised  to  them,  and 
they  yielded ;  but  the  promise  came  from  men  who 
knew  neither  how  to  keep  faith  or  to  show  mercy. 
The  brave  Governor,  Sir  Arthur  Aston,  retired  with 


THE  FIFTH  READEE.  4:39 

Jiis  staff  to  an  old  mill  on  an  eminence,  but  tbey  were 
disarmed  and  slain  in  cold  blood.  The  officers  and 
soldiers  were  first  exterminated,  and  tlien  men,  women, 
and  cliildren  were  put  to  the  sword.  The  butchery 
occupied  five  entire  days.  Cromwell  has  himself  de- 
scribed the  scene,  and  glories  in  his  cruelty.  Another 
eyewitness,  an  officer  in  his  army,  has  described  it 
also,  but  with  some  faint  touch  of  remorse. 

6.  A  number  of  the  townspeople  fled  for  safety  to 
St.  Peter's  Church,  on  the  north  side  of  the  city,  but 
every  one  of  them  was  murdered,  all  defenceless  and 
unarmed  as  they  were ;  others  took  refuge  in  the 
church  steeple,  but  it  was  of  wood,  and  Cromwell  him- 
self gave  orders  that  it  should  be  set  on  fire,  and  those 
who  attempted  to  escape  the  flames  were  piked.  The 
principal  ladies  of  the  city  had  sheltered  themselves 
in  the  crypts.  It  might  have  been  supposed  that  this 
precaution  should  be  unnecessary,  or,  at  least,  that 
English  officers  would  respect  their  sex ;  but,  alas  for 
common  humanity  !  it  was  not  so.  When  the 
slaughter  had  been  accomplished  above,  it  was  con- 
tinued below.  Neither  youth  nor  beauty  was  spared. 
Thomas  Wood,  who  was  one  of  these  officers,  and 
brother  to  Anthony  Wood,  the  Oxfor^  historian,  says 
he  found  in  these  vaults  "  the  flower  and  choicest  of 
the  women  and  ladies  belonging  to  the  town  ;  amongst 
whom,  a  most  handsome  virgin,  arrayed  in  costly  and 
gorgeous  apparel,  kneeled  down  to  him  with  tears  and 


dlO  '  THE   IIITH   KEADEIl. 

prayers  to  save  her  life."  Touched  by  her  beauty  and 
her  entreaties,  he  attempted  to  save  her,  and  took  her 
out  of  the  church  ;  but  even  his  protection  could  not 
save  her.  A  soldier  thrust  his  sword  into  her  body ; 
and  the  officer  recovering  from  his  momentary  fit  of 
compassion,  "  flung  her  down  over  the  rocks,"  accord- 
ing to  his  own  account,  but  first  took  care  to  possess 
himself  of  her  money  and  jewels.  This  officer  also 
mentions  that  the  soldiers  were  in  the  habit  of  taldng 
up  a  child,  and  using  it  as  a  buckler,  when  they  wished 
to  ascend  the  lofts  and  galleries  of  the  church,  to  save 
themselves  from  being  shot  or  brained.  It  is  an  evi- 
dence that  they  knew  their  victims  to  be  less  cruel 
than  themselves,  or  the  expedient  would  not  have  been 
found  to  answer. 


XOL— THE  SONG  OP  THE  COSSACK. 

EEV.    FEANCIS  MAHONT, 

Hev.  Francis  Mahony  was  a  native  of  Cork,  and  after  some  years 
spent  in  the  ministry  as  a  Catholic  clergyman,  devoted  himself  to 
literature,  and  was  long  a  prized  contributor  to  EngUsh  magazines 
and  journals,  where  his  keen  wit,  great  versatility  and  varied  know- 
ledge, made  his  articles  very  popular. 

1.  Come,  arotise  thee  up,  my  gallant  horse,  and  bear 
thy  rider  on ! 
The  comrade  thou,  and  the  friend,  I  trow,  of  the 
dweller  on  the  Don. 


THE  FIFTH  READER,  411 

Pillage  and  Death  liave  spread  tlieir  wings !  'tis  tlie 

hour  to  hie  thee  forth, 
And  with  thy  hoofs  an  echo  wake  to  the  trumpets  of 

the  North ! 
Nor  gems  nor  gold  do  men  behold  upon  thy  saddle- 
tree ; 
But  earth  affords  the  wealth  of  lords  for  thy  master 

and  j^r  thee. 
Then  fiercely  neigh,  my  charger  gray  ! — thy  chest  is 

proud  and  ample; 
Thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  France,  and 

the  pride  of  her  heroes  trample ! 
2.  Europe  is  weak — she  hath  grown  old — her  bulwarks 

are  laid  low  ; 
She  is  loath'  to  hear  the  blast  of  war — she  shrinketh 

from  a  foe ! 
Come,  in  our  turn,  let  us  sojourn  in  her  g09dly  haunta 

of  joy- 
In  the   pillared  porch   to   wave  the  torch,  and  hex 

palaces  destroy ! 
Proud  as  when  first  thou  slakedst  thy  thirst  in  the  flow 

of  conquered  Seine, 
Aye  shalt  thou  lave,  within  that  wave,  thy  blood-red 

flanks  again. 
Then  fiercely  neigh,  my  gallant  gray ! — thy  chest  is 

strong  and  ample  ! 
Thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  France,  and 

the  pride  of  her  heroes  trample  I 


i42  THE  FIFTH  HEADER. 

3.  Kings  are  beleaguered  on  their  thrones  by  fclieir 

own  vassal  crew ; 
And  in  their  den   quake   noblemen,  and  priests  are 

bearded  too ; 
And  loud  they  yelp  for  the  Cossack's  help  to  keep 

their  bondsmen  down, 
And  they  think  it  meet,  while  they  kiss  our  feet,  to 

wear  a  tyrant's  crown  I 
The  sceptre  now  to  my  lance  shall  bow,  and  the  crosier 

and  the  cross 
Shall  bend  alike,  when  I  lift  my  pike,  and  aloft  THAT 

SCEPTRE  toss  I 

Then  proudly  neigh,  my  gallant  gray! — thy  chest  is 

broad  and  ample ; 
Thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  France,  and 

the  pride  of  her  heroes  trample  ! 

4.  In  a  night  of  storm  I  have  seen  a  form ! — and  the 

figure  was  a  giant, 

And  his  eye  was  bent  on  the  Cossack's  tent,  and  his 
look  was  all  defiant ; 

Kingly  his  crest — and  towards  the  West  with  his  bat- 
tle-axe he  pointed ; 

And  the  "  form"  I  saw  was  Attila  I  of  this  earth  the 
scourge  anointed. 

From  the  Cossack's  camp  let  the  horseman's  tramp  the 
coming  crash  announce  ; 

Let  the  vulture  whet  his  beak  sharp  set,  on  the  carrion 
field  to  pounce  ; 


THE  FIFTH   READER.  443 

And  proudly  neigh,  my  cliarger  gray  !— Oil !  tliy  chest 

is  broad  and  ample : 
Ihy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  France,  and 

the  pride  of  her  heroes  trample ! 

5.  What  boots  old  Europe's  boasted  fame,  on  which 

she  builds  reliance, 
When  the  North  shall  launch  its  avalanche  on  her 

works  of  art  and  science  ? 
Hath  she  not  wept  her  cities  swept  by  our  hordes  of 

trampling  stallions  ? 
And  tower  and  arch  crushed  in  the  march  of  our  bar^ 

barous  battalions  ? 
Can  we  not  wield  our  father's  shield  ?  the  same  war- 
hatchet  handle  ? 
Do  our  blades  want  length,  or  the  reapers'  strength, 

for  the  harvest  of  the  Vandal  ? 
Then  proudly  neigh,  mj  gallant  gray,  for  thy  chest  is 

strong  and  ample  ; 
And  thy  hoofs  shall  prance  o'er  the  fields  of  Franco. 

and  the  pride  of  her  heroes  trample  ! 


XCIL— ST.  BERNAKD. 

MONXAIiEMBEBT. 


1.  All  acknowledge  Saint  Bernard  to  be  a  great  man 
and  a  man  of  genius ;  he  exercised  over  his  age  an  in- 
fluence that  has  no  parallel  in  history ;  he  reigned  by 


444  ^TIIE   FIFTH    READER. 

eloquence,  courage,  and  virtue.  More  than  once  he 
decided  the  future  of  nations  and  of  crowns.  At  one 
time  he  held,  as  it  were,  in  his  hands  the  do'itiny  of  the 
Church.  He  knew  how  to  move  Europe,  and  pre- 
cipitate it  upon  the  East;  he  completely  vanquished 
Abelard,  the  precursor  of  modern  Rationalism.  All 
the  world  knows  it ;  and  all  the  world  sayp.  it ;  all,  with 
one  voice,  place  him  by  the  side  of  Ximenes,  Richelieu, 
and  Bossuet. 

2.  But  this  is  not  sufficient.  If  he  was,  and  »vho  can 
doubt  it?  a  great  orator,  a  great  writer,  and  a  great 
person,  it  was  almost  without  Lis  knowing  it,  and 
always  in  opposition  to  his  own  wish.  He  was,  and 
above  all  wished  to  be,  something  else  ;  he  was  a  monX 
and  he  was  a  saint;  he  Hved  in  a  cloister  and  he 
worked  miracles. 

3.  The  Church  has  defined  and  canonized  the 
sanctity  of  Bernard  ;  history  is  charged  with  the  mis- 
sion of  relating  his  life,  and  of  explaining  the  wonder- 
ful influence  he  exercised  over  his  contemporaries. 

4.  But  in  studying  the  life  and  epoch  of  this  great 
man,  who  was  a  monk,  we  find  that  Popes,  Bishops, 
and  Saints,  who  were  the  bulwark  and  honor  of  Christ- 
ian society,  all,  or  almost  all,  like  Bernard,  came  from 
the  monastic  orders.  Who  then  v/ere  these  monks, 
and  whence  did  they  come,  and  what  had  they  done, 
up  to  this  period,  to  make  them  occupy  so  high  a 
place  in  the  destiny  of  the  world  ? 


THE   FIFTH    READER.^  415 

5.  These  questions  we  must  solve  before  going  far- 
ther. And  we  must  do  more ;  for  in  trying  to  judge  of 
the  age  in  which  Saint  Bernard  lived,  we  find  that  it  is 
impossible  to  explain  or  comprehend  it,  if  we  do  not  re- 
cognize that  it  was  animated  by  the  same  breath  which 
vivified  an  anterior  epoch  of  which  it  is  only  the  direct 
and  faithful  continuation. 

6.  If  the  twelfth  century  bowed  before  the  genius 
and  virtue  of  Saint  Bernard,  it  was  because  the 
eleventh  century  had  been  regenerated  and  penetrated 
with  the  virtue  and  genius  of  another  monk,  Gregory 
YIT. ;  and  we  could  not  comprehend  either  the  epoch 
or  the  action  of  Bernard,  when  apart  from  the  salutary 
crisis  which  the  one  had  prepared  and  rendered  pos- 
sible for  the  other;  and  never  would  a  simple  monk 
have  been  heard  and  obeyed  as  Bernard  was,  if  his 
uncontested  greatness  had  not  been  preceded  by  the 
struggles  and  trials,  and  the  posthumous  victories  of 
that  other  monk,  who  died  six  years  before  the  birth  of 
our  Saint. 

7.  It  must  then  be  characterized,  not  only  by  a  con- 
scientious view  of  the  pontificate  of  the  greatest  of  the 
Popes,  taken  from  the  ranks  of  the  monks,  but  also  by 
passing  in  review  the  entire  period  which  unites  the 
last  combats  of  Gregory  with  the  first  efforts  of  Ber- 
nard ;  and,  while  keeping  this  in  view,  describe  the 
most  important  and  most  glorious  struggle  in  which 
the  monks  were  the  first  in.  sufTorincis  as  in  lionors. 


446  THE  FIFTH   READER. 

8.  And  even  this  is  not  sufficient.  Far  from  being 
the  founders  of  monastic  orders,  Gregorj  VII.  and 
Bernard  were  only  their  offsprings,  in  common  with  so 
many  thousands  of  their  contemporaries.  When  these 
great  men  took  so  wondrous  a  part  in  them,  these  in- 
stitutions had  existed  more  then  five  centuries. 

9.  To  understand  their  origin,  and  to  appreciate  their 
nature  and  services,  we  must  go  back  to  another 
Gregory — to  Samt  Gregory  the  Great — the  first  Pope 
who  left  the  cowl  for  the  tiara ;  or  back  still  farther,  to 
Saint  Benedict,  the  legislator  and  patriarch  of  the 
monks  of  the  West.  We  must  at  least  cast  a  glance, 
during  these  five  centuries,  upon  the  superhuman  ef- 
forts made  by  these  legion  of  monks  to  subdue,  pacify, 
discipline,  and  purify  twenty  barbarous  nations,  and 
successively  transform  them  into  Christian  nations. 


XCIEL-THE  LIBEKTY  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

liACORDAIEE. 

1.  Such,  then,  was  Home  when  Jesus  Christ  sent 
his  disciples  to  convert  her  to  Himself,  and  such  was 
with  Rome  the  whole  universe.  Mistress  of  the  world, 
after  having  enchained  nations  to  her  greatness  she 
held  them  enchained  to  her  humihations  ;  and  for  the 
first  time  in  the  history  of  the  human  race  liberty  had 
no  longer  an  asylum  upon  earth. 

2.  I  say,  for  the   first  time.     Until  then,  by  a  provi- 


THE  FIFTH  KEADRE.  417 

dence  worthy  of  all  our  thanksgivings,  God  had  so 
provided  that  there  was  always  some  free  land  where 
virtue  and  truth  could  defend  themselves  against  the 
designs  of  the  stronger.  Whilst  the  east  was  fertile 
in  tyrannies,  Egypt  possessed  institutions  worthy  of 
esteem,  and  judged  her  kings  after  their  death  ;  Greece 
defended  her  tribune  against  the  ambition  of  the 
kings  of  Persia  ;  Rome  protected  her  citizens  by  laws 
which  surrounded  their  lives  with  many  sacred  ram- 
parts. If  from  ancient  we  pass  to  modern  times,  we 
shall  find  there  the  same  care  of  Providence  in  not 
permitting  despotism  to  reign  everywhere  at  the  same 
time.  The  present  world  is  divided  into  three  zones  : 
the  zone  of  unlimited  tyranny,  which  has  nothing  to 
envy  from  the  most  cruel  histories  of  the  past ;  an  in- 
termediate zone  where  some  action  is  still  permitted 
to  thought  and  to  faith ;  and,  in  fine,  that  generous 
western  zone  of  which  we  form  a  part,  those  great 
kingdoms  of  France,  England,  the  United  States 
of  America,  Spain,  where  rights  and  duties  have 
guarantees  ;  where  men  speak,  write,  discuss ;  where, 
whilst  power  oppresses  the  majesty  of  God  and  man 
in  distant  regions,  we  defend  it  without  glory,  because 
nothing  in  that  office  menaces  either  our  heads  or  our 
honor  I 

3.  A  unique  moment  arrived  when,  with  a  map  of 
the  world  open  before  you,  you  would  have  sought  in 
vain  for  a  mountain  or  a  desert  to  slielter  the  heart  of 


448  THE  FIFfH   READER. 

Cato  of  Utica,  and  when  Cato  of  Utica  tliouglit  it 
necessary  to  ask  from  death  that  Kberty  which  no  spot 
upon  earth  could  any  longer  giye  to  him.  At  that 
unique  and  terrible  moment,  Jesus  Christ  sent  His 
apostles  to  announce  the  Gospel  to  every  creature,  and 
to  found  in  their  faith,  love,  and  adoration,  the  king- 
dom of  souls  and  of  truth. 

Let  us  see  what  this  kingdom  was  to  the  Roman 
empire. 

5.  First,  it  was  the  liberty  of  the  soul.  Jesus  Christ 
claimed  the  soul ;  He  claimed  that  it  should  be  free  to 
know  Him,  to  love  Him,  to  adore  Him,  to  pray  to  Him, 
to  unite  with  him.  He  did  not  admit  that  any  other 
than  Himself  had  right  over  the  soul,  and  above  all 
the  right  of  hindering  the  soul  from  communicating 
with  him.  Yet  much  more  ;  Jesus  Christ  claimed  the 
public  union  of  souls  in  His  service ;  He  knew  nothing 
of  secrecy ;  He  demanded  a  patent  and  social  worship. 
The  liberty  of  the  soul  implied  the  right  to  found 
material  and  spiritual  churches,  to  assemble,  to  pray 
together,  to  hear  in  common  the  Word  of  God,  that 
substantial  food  of  the  soul  which  is  its  daily  bread, 
and  of  which  it  can  be  deprived  only  by  an  act  of 
sacrilegious  homicide.  The  liberty  of  the  soul  implied 
the  right  of  practicing  together  all  the  ceremonies  of 
public  worship,  of  receiving  the  sacraments  of  eternal 
life,  of  living  together  by  the  Gospel  and  Jesus  Christ. 
None  upon  earth  possessed  any  longer  the  government 


THE  FIFTH   UEXDEH.  449 

of  sacred  tilings  but  the  anointed  of  tlie  Lord — the 
elect  souls — initiated  into  a  larger  faith  and  love,  tested 
by  the  successors  of  the  apostles,  sanctified  by  ordina- 
tion. All  the  rest,  princes  and  peoples,  were  excluded 
from  the  administration  of  the  body  and  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ,  that  divine  center  of  the  kingdom  of  souls, 
and  which  it  was  not  meet  to  deliver  to  dogs,  according 
to  the  forcible  expression  of  the  most  gentle  Gospel. 

6.  But  as  the  soul  is  the  basis  of  man,  by  creating 
the  liberty  of  the  soul,  Jesus  Christ,  at  the  same  time 
created  the  liberty  of  man.  The  Gospel,  as  the  regu- 
lator of  the  rights  and  duties  of  all,  rose  to  the  power 
of  a  universal  charter,  which  became  the  measure  of 
all  legitimate  authority,  and  which,  in  hallowing  it, 
preserved  it  from  the  excesses  into  which  human  power 
had  everywhere  fallen.  On  this  account,  the  kingdom 
of  souls  was  absolutely  the  very  opposite  of  the  Roman 
empire,  and  it  was  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  com- 
plete antagonism.  The  Roman  empire  was  universal 
servitude ;  the  kingdom  of  souls,  universal  hberty. 
Between  them  it  was  a  question  of  being  or  not  being. 
The  struggle  was  inevitable ;  it  was  to  be  a  deadly, 
struggle. 


XCIV.— THE  LIBERTY  OF  THE  GOSPEL.— Continued. 

1.  Now,  what  force  did  the  kingdom  of  souls  dispose 
of  against  that  empire  covered  with  legions  ?     None, 


450  THE  FIFTH   HEADER 

The  Forum  ?  It  was  no  more.  The  people  V  They 
were  no  more.  ±!iloquence  ?  It  was  no  more.  Thought! 
It  was  no  more.  Was  it  at  least  permitted  to  .the  first 
Christians  whom  the  Gospel  had  raised  up  in  the 
world  to  gather  one  against  a  hundred  thousand  for 
the  combat  ?  No,  that  was  not  permitted  to  them. 
What  then  was  their  strength  ?  The  same  that  Jesus 
Christ  had  before  them.  They  had  to  confess  His 
name  and  then  to  die,  to  die  to-daj,  the  day  after,  to 
die  one  after  another,  that  is  to  say,  to  vanquish  servi- 
tude by  the  peaceful  exercise  of  the  liberty  of  the  soul ; 
to  vanquish  force,  not  by  force,  but  by  .virtue.  It  had 
been  said  to  them :  If  for  three "  centuries  you  caJi 
boldly  say~"  I  believe  in  God  the  Father  Almighty, 
Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  in  Jesus  Christ,  His 
only  Son  our  Lord,  who  was  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
was  dead,  and  is  risen  again ;"  if  for  three  centuries 
you  can  say  this  openly,  and  die  daily  after  having  de- 
clared it,  in  three  centuries  you  shall  be  masters,  that 
is  to  say,  free. 

2.  And  this  was  done. 

And  this  was  done  in  spite  of  the  fury  of  the  Eoman 
empire  converting  the  universe  into  a  headsman,  and 
losing  its  terrified  reason  in  the  emptiaess  of  its  cruel- 
ties. I  will  say  no  more  of  the  martyrs ;  they  con- 
quered, as  the  whole  world  knows.  And  this  kingdom 
of  souls  foundei  by  their  blood,  this  kingdom  of  souls 
which  was  to  destroy  i  lolati-y,  and  which  has  destroyed 


THE   FIFIH   READ  I  R.  451  , 

it.  which  was  to  overthrow  the  Roman  empire,  and 
which  has  overthrown  it  in  all  that  was  false  and  un- 
just in  it ;  where  did  this  kingdom  of  S9uls  set  up  its 
capital  ?  In  Rome !  The  seat  of  virtue  was  placed  in 
the  seat  of  power ;  the  seat  of  liberty  in  the  seat  of 
bondage  ;  in  the  seat  of  shameful  idols  the  seat  of  the 
cross  of  Jesus  Christ ;  in  the  seat  whence  the  orders 
of  Nero  issued  to  the  world,  the  seat  of  the  disarmed 
and  aged  pastor,  who,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
whose  vicar  he  is,  spreads  throughout  the  world  purity, 
peace,  and  blessing.  O  triumph  of  faith  and  love !  O 
spectacle  which  enraptures  man  above  himself  by 
showing  him  what  he  can  do  for  good  Avith  the  help  of 
God !  My  own  eyes  have  seen  that  land,  the  liberator 
of  souls,  that  soil  formed  of  ashes  and  blood  of  mar- 
tyrs ;  and  why  should  I  not  recur  to  remembrances 
which  will  confirm  my  words  in  re-invigorating  my 
life? 

3.  One  day,  then,  my  heart  all  trembling  with 
emotion,  I  entered  by  the  Flaminian  gate  that  famous 
city  which  had  conquered  the  world  by  her  arms,  and 
governed  it  by  her  laws.  I  hurried  to  the  Capitol ;  but 
the  temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus  no  longer  crowned 
its  heroic  summit.  I  descended  to  the  Forum ;  the 
orator's  tribune  was  broken  down,  and  the  voices  of 
herdsmen  had  succeeded  to  the  voices  of  Cicero  and 
Hortensius.  I  mounted  the  steep  paths  of  the  Pala* 
tine :   the  Caesars  were  gone,  and  tliey  had  not  even 


452  IHE   FIFTH   KE.U)ER. 

left  a  pretorian  at  the  entry  to  ask  the  name  of  th€ 
mquisitive  stranger.  "Whilst  I  was  pondering  those 
mighty  ruins,  through  the  azure  of  the  ItaHan  sky,  1 
perceived  in  the  distance  a  temple  whose  dome  ap- 
peared to  cover  all  the  present  grandeurs  of  that  city 
upon  whose  dust  I  trod.  I  advanced  toward  it,  and 
there,  upon  a  vast  and  magnificent  space,  I  found 
Europe  assembled  in  the  persons  of  her  ambassadors, 
her  poets,  her  artists,  her  pilgrims — a  throng  diverse 
^in  origin,  but  united,  it  seemed,  in  common  and  ear- 
nest expectation.  I  also  waited,  when  in  the  distance 
before  me  an  old  man  advanced,  borne  in  a .  chair 
above  the  crowd,  bareheaded  and  holding  in  his  two 
hands,  under  the  form  of  mysterious  bread,  that  man 
of  Judea  aforetime  crucified.  Every  head  bent  before 
him,  tears  flowed  in  silent  adoration,  and  upon  no 
visage  did  I  see  the  protestation  of  doubt,  or  the  sha- 
dow of  a  feehng  which  was  not,  at  least,  respectful. 


RETURN  to  the  circulation  desk  of  any 
University  of  California  Library 
or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
BIdg.  400,  Richmond  Field  Station 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 
2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling 

(415)642-6233 
1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  NRLF 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days 

prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

—  im^^  t  "'^  m — '+■ 


,yB  36813 


(^1240589 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


